


Son of a Preacher Man

by PensToTheEnd



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: AU, Always a Happy Ending, Conversion/Aversion Therapy, Homeless!Patrick, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Homosexuality, M/M, Not Hockey Players (Hockey RPF), Priesttobe!Jonathan, Religious Discussion, Religious Extremism, Religious Fanaticism, Torture as therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 20:43:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16961133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PensToTheEnd/pseuds/PensToTheEnd
Summary: Following the death of his mother, Patrick Kane is raised in the strict religious world of his father.  It’s a world of fundamentalists, conservatism, and no tolerance.  It’s a world where Patrick Kane grows up knowing his sexual orientation can only lead to a tragic end if he stays in his father’s church.For Jonathan Toews, his faith is the foundation on his world.  An answered prayer to save his brother’s life leads Jonathan down the road towards the priesthood.  Jonathan is determined to suppress his feelings which go against the teachings of his church.  A life of celibacy will be a life without temptations.  Or so Jonathan thinks.  Then Jonathan meets the son of a preacher man and everything changes.





	1. Patrick

_ Patrick clenched his eyes shut, his hands balled into fists.  He tried to brace himself for what was coming, but there really was no way to be ready for it.  His skin burned when the wires made contact, and faster than he could get a breath, his whole body tensed, convulsing as the electric current danced across nerve endings.  His mind went blank. _

_ “That’s enough for now.”  His father’s voice rang through the pain and darkness, drawing him back.  “Tie him up.” _

_ Patrick was dragged from the table and across the room, where he was roughly and unceremoniously shoved down onto a chair and his hands and feet bound. A length of rope was wound tightly around his chest firmly securing him to the chair. Someone tugged at his hair, tipping his head back  _

_ “He can’t take much more.  He’s gotta break soon.” _

Several months earlier...

“God shall judge both the righteous and the wicked.  And only the truly righteous, only those who follow God’s word, shall be granted the eternal life of his heavenly body.”

Patrick sat dutifully in the front pew of the church, listening to his father extol the virtues of good, Christian living, just as he had done every Sunday for the last twelve years.  He kept his head up, his eyes fixed on his father. There would be severe consequences to do otherwise, to look away, or give any appearance that he wasn’t completely engrossed in the word of the Lord.  He’d learned that lesson a long time ago.

Patrick couldn’t wait for the service to end.  It was getting harder and harder these days to sit and listen to the things his father said.  Words of hatred. Pure unadulterated hatred. All said and believed in, in the name of God.

God.

God and Patrick’s father.

Patrick had been seven when his father had broken away from their church and his life in Buffalo and moved them to the Midwest to start his own church.  In the twelve years since, the congregation and the nearly self-sustaining community it formed had grown in population to around 150 people. All drawn to the teachings and prophecies of Reverend Patrick Kane, Sr.

“Today’s lesson is on love.  Love as God intended. A man.”  His father paused and stared down from the pulpit, fixing his eyes on his son.  “A man and a woman.”

Patrick wanted to shrink into his seat.  His father knew. Oh, god. His father knew.  A hot flame lit in his chest. His face flushed red.  He fought to keep his head up and focused on his father, the nauseous feeling rising in the pit of his stomach.

“God created man for a purpose.  To have dominion over and rule this world he created.  He gave man a mate, a woman. And God blessed them. And God said to them, be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth."  Patrick, Sr. continued. “That is what God willed. But there are those out there who have forsaken this. Those who have committed sin in the eyes of our Lord. Those who flaunt their sin and throw it in our faces. And then they demand that we accept them.”

Patrick felt the bile rise in this throat.  He fought to keep it down. Focus. Focus. Keep his eyes on his father.

“For it is also written in the bible, therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.  And that a man, lying with another man as with a woman is an abomination before the Lord.” He stared at Patrick and spoke the next words slowly, deliberately, forcefully.  “An. Abomination. Before. God.”

Patrick’s hands grasped the front edge of the pew.  He squeezed hard, his knuckles turning white.

“God will bring his wrath down on this world.  Just as he did with Sodom and Gomorrah. He will destroy the sinners.  He will send them to hell, to burn in the pits for all eternity. And we, we the righteous of this world will be the sole survivors of this apocalypse.  We shall be God’s chosen in Heaven. And why? Because we will stand up against the sinners. We shall drive them from this world with Him.”

Patrick wanted to get up and run.

“But…”  His father’s voice softened.  “There is hope for those sinners who repent. For those who change their ways.  There is a cure for their sickness. They can be converted. They can be brought to the light of our Lord and the righteousness of his ways.  We can help them. We can help them come back to the fold.”

Patrick was frozen with fear now.  Conversion. His father was big on conversion.  He remembered what happened to Noah. When Patrick was 14 and just starting to understand his feelings.  Noah had been there. Three years older and so understanding. Noah was gay. He confided in Patrick. They shared many days talking about their feelings, about life, about God.  Then one day, Noah’s father and Patrick’s father had taken Noah away.

He came back a week later, looking beaten down and sullen.  He stopped talking to Patrick. He repeated Patrick’s father’s words.  Homosexuality was a sin. He had seen the light. Patrick was confused and hurt.  Noah withdrew further and further away from him, from everyone. A month later, Noah was gone.  Patrick had found him hanging in the church. His father had said it was God’s will that the sinner die, for he had not been able to change his evil ways in his heart.

Patrick remembered.  Conversion they had called it.  What they did to Noah.

At that moment, Patrick knew what he had to do.  As much as he loved his sisters. As much as he would miss them.

He had to leave.

He had to leave, or he would die.

Like Noah.


	2. Jonathan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon only had one problem with his life. A thought, a feeling, a part of him that was in direct conflict with his belief in God, well, more like his belief in his religion. His religion said it was a sin for Jon to feel this way. So, he kept it buried deep inside. Tried not to think about it. Prayed every day that it would go away. But, it didn’t.
> 
> So far, Jon hadn’t given in to the temptations of the flesh. Oh, he’d wanted to. There had been another boy at the seminary, when Jon was just 18. That was when Jon knew that he was truly attracted to men. He was gay. And, that it was wrong.

_ Jon.  Please God.  He has to find me.  He has to know where I am.  He’ll come. He’ll come for me. _

_ Patrick felt the jerk on the ropes as someone made sure they were still tight.  He opened his eyes, blinking several times as the light assaulted his senses. He focused on the form in front of him. _

_ His father. _

_ “You are a sinner in the eyes of our Lord.  You know what you do is wrong. Don’t you, Patrick.”  His father’s deep voice reverberated in his chest as he bellowed at Patrick.  “But you’re like her. You’ve brought down God’s wrath on yourself.” _

_ His father stepped closer to him, his hand reaching out to touch Patrick’s cheek.  Patrick flinched involuntarily at the contact, surprised at the softness. _

_ “But there is hope for you, Patrick.  Hope for your soul. For redemption. It’s not too late, son.  You can come to God. You just need to repent. You need to accept that you have sinned.  Accept that homosexuality is an abomination. You need to give up that life choice and take God into your heart.  Let him heal you of this sickness. Can you do that, Patrick?” _

_ Patrick closed his eyes.  Repeating one thought, one word, over and over again in his mind. _

_ Jon.  Jon. Jon.  Jon. _

Jon wandered up and down the crowded, noisy sidewalk handing out flyers.  There were many familiar faces among the runaways, homeless, drunks, prostitutes and others out and about tonight.  There were also a lot of unfamiliar faces.

“St. Michael’s shelter will be open tonight.  Everyone is welcome.” Jon handed a flyer to a couple walking together.  “Soup kitchen every day, too. Warm place to sleep. Warm meal.”

He walked over to a group of women working the corner spot.

“Ladies.  How’s business tonight?”

“Slow, Father.  Really slow.” Coretta told him.  “I think the PoPo bein’ up in our business may be chasin’ all the players away.”

Jon looked in the direction she nodded and saw a marked car parked up the block.  Yes, that would deter customers from stopping. No work, though, meant no money. No money meant no food for a lot of these young people.  Jon slowly walked towards the car.

“Hey boys.”  He said, bending to speak through the window that the passenger rolled down.

“Father Toews, spreading the good word to the heathen hoard tonight?”

“Is it really worth it for you to sit here?  Come on, fellas, these kids need to earn a buck or two somehow.”

“They should go home.  Or get legal jobs.” The older of the two police officers said cynically from his spot in the passenger seat.  “Just tryin’ to clean up the neighborhood. That puts us on the same side, doesn’t it?”

“It takes all kinds to make the world go round.  Personally, I don’t think they hurt this neighborhood at all.  They support the local shops. There’s not a lot of violent crimes here.  What’s it hurting?”

“You’d really rather have them here than us?” 

“Yes.  At least for tonight.”  Jon smiled.

“Alright, Father.  We’ll clear out.” The driver said.  He started the car and put it in gear.  “Tell them to have a good night.”

“Thanks, boys.  Oh, free soup kitchen every day at St. Michael’s.  Why don’t you stop by, get to know the people you’re protecting?”  Jon handed them a flyer.

“Yeah, we’ll think about it.”  They laughed and drove off.

Jon made his way back to the parish and his room.  It was a modest apartment furnished by the Diocese, a small living room, small bathroom, and an even smaller bedroom.  It wasn’t much, but Jon could live there rent free while he studied under Father Daniels. Even though everyone referred to him as Father Jon or Father Toews, he was not yet ordained.  It would be several months yet before he took his final vows.

But, Jon would be a priest one day.  It was his calling. 

Jon could pinpoint to the exact second when he had known he wanted to be a priest.  He was ten years old. David, his younger brother, was sick. Very sick. His mother and father had told them that David might not live through the night.  Jon had prayed all night to the God he learned about in Sunday School every week. Jon had promised God anything...everything... if he would make David better.  He prayed and prayed and prayed, until he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes open any longer.

When he woke up, his mother told him that David was going to be okay.  

She called it a miracle.  

Jon knew it was because he prayed.  And at that very second, he knew his life belonged to God.

From that moment, Jon’s future was laid out in front of him. He worked hard to get where he thought he should be as fast as he could.  And, he excelled at learning. Home schooling let him work at an advanced pace and he graduated from high school at fifteen. Four years of college was followed by admission to the seminary at just 19.  Now, at 22 he was in line to have his own church within the year. Father Daniels would be retiring right after Jon’s ordination. He was grooming Jon to take over his parish.

Jon only had one problem with his life.  A thought, a feeling, a part of him that was in direct conflict with his belief in God, well, more like his belief in his religion.  His religion said it was a sin for Jon to feel this way. So, he kept it buried deep inside. Tried not to think about it. Prayed every day that it would go away.  But, it didn’t.

So far, Jon hadn’t given in to the temptations of the flesh.  Oh, he’d wanted to. There had been another boy at the seminary, when Jon was just 18.  That was when Jon knew that he was truly attracted to men. He was gay. And, that it was wrong.

Soon, though, he’d be taking his vows for the priesthood, including the vow of celibacy.

That was what he needed to do.

If he was celibate, the desires, the urges would go away.

The temptation would be controlled.


	3. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cause all you preacher types. I know you. You’re all the same. So, pious on the outside. So… Christian… but when it comes right down to it, there’s nothing Christian about you.”
> 
> “What have I done to you to make you think that of me? I’ve talked to you, what, twice? You don’t know me.”
> 
> “I know religious types. That’s all I need to know about you.” Patrick sauntered past Jon and went to a small patch of blankets where another boy was sitting. “Thanks for watching them.” Patrick said to the boy as he sat down.

_ The words droned in his head.  The recording repeating his father’s damnations again and again.  The images on the screen in front of him flashing through in rapid succession.  Images being burned into his mind, just as the electrodes had burned his flesh. _

_ They made him watch.  At any sign that he was passing out, the sharp crack of the riding crop on his back jolted him back awake.  He wasn’t sure how long this had been going on. An hour or a day, or even a week. He had lost track. They controlled his sense of time.  The room kept dark except for times like this when they showed him the images. _

_ The images varied from peaceful, tranquil scenes of families.  Husbands, wives, children all happy and going about their daily lives.  Intermingled with images so disturbing that Patrick at times thought he’d be sick, the bile rising in his throat.  Images of men. Men with other men. Men being tortured. Mutilated. _

_ This is what God does to fags. _

_ This is what is waiting for you.  _

_ If you don’t repent. _

The first time Jon saw the new boy was on a Thursday at the soup kitchen.  He came through the line by himself, baseball cap pulled down low, almost hiding his face.  He avoided eye contact, offered a polite thank you in a soft voice to the volunteers who served him, and then sat by himself off in a corner of the room.  Jon watched him devour the roll in two bites, obviously extremely hungry, but then watched as he made himself slow down and eat his meal in a much more controlled, mannerly fashion.  The boy kept his head down, raising it only occasionally for his eyes to glance around the room nervously, as if looking for someone.

He was thin built but with a hint of being muscular under his bulky jacket.  He was shorter than Jon’s six two by several inches. His eyes, when Jon got a glimpse of them, were an intense clear blue.  His skin was fair and smooth, and the blond curls peeking out from under the ball cap framed his face like a halo. He looked as close to angelic as any person Jon had ever met, and that night, his image haunted Jon’s dreams.

The scene was repeated for the next several days.  The small blond coming in by himself, getting his food, and sitting alone.  Jon, as was his custom, wandered among the tables chatting with people. Father Daniels had taught him the importance of taking a personal interest in his future parishioners.

He stopped at the table where the younger man was sitting.

“Hi.”  Jon stuck out his hand, hoping for the automatic response.  The blond hesitated, then took Jon’s hand and shook it. “I’m Jon.  You’re new to the area and I thought I should welcome you.”

“Thank you.”  Came the soft reply.  “I’m, uh, Patrick.”

“Hi, Patrick.”  Jon put his hand on the back of a chair opposite Patrick.  “Can I sit for a minute?”

“I guess.”

“Thanks.”  Jon sat down.  “You’re new to the neighborhood.”

“So?”  Patrick snapped, challenging.

“Nothing.”  Jon raised his hands acting sorry.  “I just meant, I hadn’t seen you before a few days ago.  We get a lot of new people, especially young people, all the time.  Seems like a popular vacation spot.”

“Whatever.”  Patrick said, relaxing slightly and going back to eating his meal.

“Do you have a place to stay?  Out of the weather?” Jon could guess that he was sleeping on the streets somewhere, most likely the most popular place with kids Patrick’s age and younger.  “The overpass?”

Patrick looked up again, surprised at Jon’s correct guess.  He sized Jon up. He didn’t seem threatening. He nodded slowly.

“Yeah.  It’s where most kids end up.”  Jon half grinned, knowingly. Jon had seen plenty of kids in the last year.  Runaways, escaping a bad situation, or just rebelling against their lives. Most were like Patrick, and while Jon would help them out with blankets or jackets and other basic items, or with getting the police to ease up on them, he had never felt the need to personally reach out to any of them.  Until Patrick had shown up.

“You know, we have a cot in the back.  If you wanted. You could help around here.  Clean up after hours or whatever.”

“Don’t need your help.”  Patrick said under his breath.  That was the second hint of rudeness, or independence, that Jon had seen from him.  “I can manage.”

“Right.”  Jon didn’t argue.  “You have a job? If not, you’ll end up making money the way every other runaway kid does around here.”

“Yeah?  And how’s that?”  Patrick raised his head and fixed his blue eyes on Jon, looking rather smug.

Jon flushed red and sputtered when Patrick winked at him.

“Not to worry.  Don’t intend to have to do that line of work.”  Patrick smirked, then added, “Yet.”

Jon nodded, looking away, feeling embarrassed.  “That’s, uh, that’s good.”

“Thank you for the offer, though, uh, Jon.”  Patrick’s voice softened again as he reverted back to the polite, quiet boy that Jon had first noticed.

“Well.  It stands.  If you want it.”  Jon said as he stood up.  He waited a few awkward seconds and when Patrick didn’t offer any further conversation Jon simply walked away.  There was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.

\------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, Jon again wandered over to Patrick’s table and sat down.

“How’s the food?”

“Had better.”  Patrick shrugged.  “Had worse. But it’s hot and it’s free, which makes it edible.”

“That’s the spirit.”  Jon said sarcastically.

“You asked,” Patrick said coldly, “Father.”

When Jon’s face flushed, and he looked away sheepishly, Patrick continued.

“Yeah, I asked around.  Wondered if you were just some creepy volunteer or what.”

“Some volunteer would have offered you a room and a job?”

“Never know.  Could be some perv, tryin’ to get me alone in a room.”  Patrick stared until Jon looked away. “Are you?”

“What?  No. I’m not a perv.”  Jon retorted, making himself look at Patrick again, stare back at those intense blue eyes.  “And technically, I’m not a priest yet.”

“But everybody called you Father Jon.”

“They do, but I won’t be ordained for a few months, yet.”

“Ah, so you’re just pretending to be a priest.”

“I’m not…”

“Isn’t that a sin?”

“I’m not pretending to be anything.”  Jon huffed.

“Chill.”  Patrick laughed.  “Just jerkin’ ya around.  I know it’s not against the Canons to impersonate a priest.  Unless, maybe you’ve married anyone. Have you? Couples out there thinkin’ they’re married, living in sin?”

“No.  I’d never…”  Jon glared, indignant at this implication.

Patrick laughed.  “My god, you’re too serious.  I’m fucking kidding, okay. Everyone says you’re a great guy.  A little uptight sometimes.”

“I’m not uptight.  I just act professional.”

“The way a priest is supposed to act.”

“Exactly.”  Jon nodded.

“Like you have a stick up your ass.”  Patrick snorted. This time, he was the one who got up and walked away, leaving Jon sitting there in stunned silence.

\-------------------------------------------------

Jon avoided Patrick for the next few days.  Gave him glaring, contemptuous looks from across the room.  Jon even stayed away from the serving line, so he wouldn’t have to interact with Patrick at all.  Stick up his ass. Really? Jon leaned to the serious side, yeah, but what had he done to make Patrick say that about him.  Jon was just being nice. If Patrick Kane didn’t want that, well, so be it.

And, yet…

Even though Jon was keeping his distance from Patrick, he couldn’t help watching Patrick.  Or, constantly thinking about Patrick. Where was he from? What was his story? Why did he say Canons when he talked about Jon impersonating a priest?  That was not a common term for the average lay person to use? Was Patrick religious? What? Jon wanted to ask him, but at the same time he didn’t.

Something about Patrick had shaken loose all those feelings that Jon kept tightly bound deep inside his soul.  Feelings he tried to deny. Feelings that scared him. Feelings that could mess up his plans for his future.

Those thoughts crept into Jon’s brain, too.  Patrick had said he wasn’t prostituting himself.  Yet. What did that mean? Would he? Would he turn to that life?  With men? Was he gay?

Jon hadn’t gone out at night since that second encounter with Patrick.  He was used to going out every night, and a lot of the regulars had questioned him about it, worried he was sick or something.  Jon assured them he was alright, that he’d just been busy the last few days. Finally, he decided to just bite the bullet and venture out.  So what if he ran into Patrick. No big deal.

It wasn’t like he was going to go out specifically looking for Patrick.

Except.

His route took him directly to the overpass.

He handed out flyers for the soup kitchen to every unfamiliar face he saw.  There were a lot of them it seemed. All the while, he tried not to look obvious as he searched for Patrick.  After 20 minutes or so, he had not seen any sign of Patrick. He was about to head back to the parish house when a familiar voice spoke up behind him.

“You lost Father?”

Jon turned around to face Patrick.  “No. Handing out flyers. For the soup kitchen.  And, seeing if anyone needs anything.”

“Sure.”  Patrick smirked.  “Maybe you’re looking for a little, uh, company.”

“Why would you?”

“Cause all you preacher types.  I know you. You’re all the same.  So, pious on the outside. So… Christian… but when it comes right down to it, there’s nothing Christian about you.”

“What have I done to you to make you think that of me?  I’ve talked to you, what, twice? You don’t know me.”

“I know religious types.  That’s all I need to know about you.”  Patrick sauntered past Jon and went to a small patch of blankets where another boy was sitting.  “Thanks for watching them.” Patrick said to the boy as he sat down.

Jon followed him over to his spot and stood, towering over the two homeless youths.

“Think what you want, but you don’t know me.”  He shoved a handful of flyers at Patrick. “Hand these out for me?”

“You’re doin’ just fine handing them out.”  Patrick glanced up at Jon, head tipped to the side, one eye shut as he smiled cock-eyed.  “Wouldn’t want to take such an important job away from a man of God.”

“Ugh.”  Jon huffed.  He spun around on his heal and started to storm off.  Under his breath he swore at Patrick. “Christ. I don’t know why I even tried.”

“Cause…”  Patrick called after him, “you’re such a good man.”

Those within earshot laughed.  A few scoffed and rebuked Patrick for being rude to Father Jon.  Patrick didn’t care. His eyes followed Jon until he was out of sight.  Yeah, he had Father Jon pegged. He had the same feelings Patrick did. Only Jon would never admit it.


	4. Dinner Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was wondering if you’d like some dinner? I have some cold fried chicken and potato salad in my fridge. And you could grab a shower if you wanted.”
> 
> The door opened slowly, and Patrick stepped out.
> 
> “Chicken?”
> 
> “It’s not much. But, I thought I’d ask.”
> 
> “Sounds good. Gotta beat the soup kitchen food, huh.”
> 
> “I thought…”
> 
> “Relax. The food’s good. Will have to wait and see if the company’s any better, though.” Patrick smiled at him. He waved his hand out, motioning for Jon to lead the way.

_ Soft hands.  Soft eyes. Soft voice. _

_ She came to him.  So different than his father.  He wondered how they had ever gotten together.  Then he remembered. His father wasn’t always like this.  There had been a time when… _

_ Don’t think about that.  Don’t give him an in. That’s what he wants. _

_ His mother.  The vision of her appeared again.  Smiling. She was always smiling when Patrick thought about her.  Smiling. Happy. Alive. _

_ “Do I believe in God?”  She repeated five-year-old Patrick’s question. _

_ “Daddy says that you don’t.  Is that why you don’t go to church with us?” _

_ “No.  I believe in God, honey.  I think that it’s just better if we all worship and serve him how we feel we should, not how someone tells us.  Do you understand that?” She knew it might be a bit much for a five-year-old to grasp. _

_ Patrick nodded his head slowly, then as she smiled knowingly at him, began to shake it in a negative response. _

_ “Do you believe in God?”  She asked Patrick. _

_ “Yeah, I guess.  Daddy says I should.” _

_ “I know what Daddy says, but do you, Patrick Timothy Kane…” _

_ “The second.”  Patrick interjected proudly, puffing out his little chest. _

_ “Patrick Timothy Kane, the second.”  His mom corrected. “Do you believe in God.  Not because Daddy tells you to, but because you believe.” _

_ “Hhhhmmm.”  Patrick hummed, bringing his hand to his head like Winnie-the-Pooh does when he’s thinking about something important.  “Yes.” _

_ “And why do you believe in God?” _

_ “Because he created the world and everything.”  Patrick said. “That’s what the bible says. So, it must be right.” _

_ She hugged her son tightly, holding him to her chest and laughing.  Patrick laughed because she was laughing. _

_ “That’s a start.  Someday you’ll figure it out.  You’ll believe or not believe because it’s what you feel.  Not because someone, or some book, tells you to.” _

_ Patrick didn’t understand what she meant, but he kept laughing.  A feeling of warmth and safety enveloping him like her arms, he could almost feel… _

_ The electrodes touched his skin and his mind went dark again. _

Patrick wasn’t at the soup kitchen the next day, or the day after, or the day after that.  Jon was a bit concerned. He went out the second night to scan the neighborhood, but there was no sign of Patrick anywhere, not even at the overpass.  On the fourth day, Patrick showed up again, looking none the worse for wear. Actually, he looked pretty good. He was cleaned up, had shaved and gotten his hair cut, and his clothes looked clean.

Jon made his way to the table where Patrick still sat by himself to eat.

“Thought maybe you’d moved on.”  Jon said as he walked up to the table.  “Or, gone home.”

Patrick snorted a chuckle.  “That’s not gonna happen.”

Jon waited until Patrick looked up and nodded at the chair before he sat down.

“I got a job.”  Patrick offered without Jon having to ask.

“Oh?  That’s good.  Doing what?”

“Stock boy at the grocery store on Jefferson.”  Patrick told him. The store was almost three miles away from where the soup kitchen was located and probably another four blocks to the overpass.  It was quite the daily commute on foot and Jon whistled lowly.

“That’s good.  But that’s a hike every day.  You should find a place to stay closer.”

“I like it here.”  Patrick offered. “But, I was wondering something.  Is that offer of a cot still available?”

Jon hesitated for just a moment.

“Does it come with access to a shower?  I can’t show up at the store smelling like I’ve been sleeping in a cardboard box outside for a week all the time.”

“Um.  Yeah. Yeah, you can, uh, you can shower at my place.”  Jon offered.

“Thanks.”  Patrick smiled.

Later that day, Patrick showed up with a backpack and a couple of other small bags, which Jon assumed were all his possessions in the world at the moment.  Jon showed him to the back room. It was small, just big enough for the cot, a small desk and chair. Jon found Patrick some sheets, a blanket and a couple of pillows.  He left him alone to get settled in to his new living space.

After about an hour, Jon came back to the room and knocked lightly on the door.

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering if you’d like some dinner?  I have some cold fried chicken and potato salad in my fridge.  And you could grab a shower if you wanted.”

The door opened slowly, and Patrick stepped out.

“Chicken?”

“It’s not much.  But, I thought I’d ask.”

“Sounds good.  Gotta beat the soup kitchen food, huh.”

“I thought…”

“Relax.  The food’s good.  Will have to wait and see if the company’s any better, though.”  Patrick smiled at him. He waved his hand out, motioning for Jon to lead the way.

Jon’s apartment wasn’t much bigger than Patrick’s room.  But, there was a small kitchen area with a fridge, sink and microwave.  And, a coffee maker.

“Coffee?”  Jon offered when he saw Patrick’s eyes light up at the sight of it.

“God yes.  No offense to the soup kitchen coffee either, but damn I could go for a really good cup for a change.”

“Why don’t you hop in the shower and I’ll get everything ready.”  Jon smiled. Patrick nodded and headed off to the bathroom.

An hour and a half later, they sat on Jon’s couch, a bucket full of nothing but chicken bones and an empty potato salad container on the floor at their feet.  Patrick sipped at his third cup of coffee. He might have trouble sleeping, but the warm brew tasted too good not to keep drinking it.

They had talked about a variety of things while they ate but avoided religion and anything personal.  Jon, however, finally worked up the courage to ask Patrick several questions that had been nagging at him.

“So, you said you’d never go home.  Care to share?” Jon asked.

“My father.”  Patrick offered after a few seconds.  “He has a problem with me.”

“Oh?  I’m sorry.”

“Why should you be sorry?  Unless you have a problem with me, too?”

“Why would I?  I hardly know you.”

“You’re a man of God.”  Patrick smirked.

“Yeah, about that.  What’s your issue with me being a priest?”

“My father’s a man of God.  Leader of his own church. The Holy Church of Kane.”  Patrick told him with a shrug of his shoulders. “Gives one a whole new perspective on religion, being the son of a preacher man.”

“And, that has to do with why your father has a problem with you?” Jon questioned.  “You don’t see eye to eye on religion?”

“You could say that.”  Patrick answered. “At least, not what it says about people like me.”

“People like… oh.”  Jon looked away and took a long sip of his tea when Patrick gave him the ‘uh, duh’ look. 

“And what does your religion say about gay people, Father Toews?”  Patrick pushed, sensing Jon’s unease with the topic.

“It says it’s a sin.”  Jon said slowly. “But.  It also says that it’s not for us here on Earth to judge.”

“Wow.  That’s a cop-out if ever I heard one.”  Patrick snorted. “Seriously. What it says, hey it’s a sin, but we won’t call it a sin because that’s only for God to say?”

“That’s not how.  No. I mean.” Jon stammered.

“Right.”  Patrick looked at his watch.  “It’s late and I gotta work in the morning.  You think about what you did mean, Father, and we’ll pick this conversation up next time.  Thanks for dinner, and the coffee, oh, and the hot shower. It was great.”

Patrick stood and walked to the door.  Jon got up to follow. Patrick said good-night again and left.  Once he was gone, Jon leaned his back against the closed door, holding his hands over his face.

\-------------------------------------------

The next few days, Patrick came and went from the room downstairs.  He tucked some food in the back of one of the large soup kitchen refrigerators after a couple days.  Each evening, he’d sweep and mop floors and clean the restrooms. He didn’t ask to go back up to Jon’s apartment and Jon didn’t invite him back.

Jon kept track of Patrick’s coming and goings, and of the work he did.  Patrick was a hard worker Jon came to realize. He’d be up early in the morning and off to the grocery store for his shift there.  Then he’d be back in the afternoon for a short nap while the soup kitchen cleared out for the day. After dinner, Patrick would work there until late into the evening.  Then he’d be up to do it all over again the next day.

After two weeks, Patrick finally had a day off from the grocery store.  He took advantage of it by grabbing lunch at the soup kitchen. Jon took advantage of it by finding his way to Patrick’s table.

“How’s it going?”

“Good.”

“Job must be going okay.  And the kitchen looks great, you’re really busting your butt around here.” 

“Yep.”  Patrick put his fork down and sat back in his chair.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills.  He peeled off a couple of twenties and handed them to Jon.

“What’s this for?”

“The room.”

“You cover that with the cleaning.  Here. Take this back, you need it.”  Jon tried to hand the money back to Patrick, who’d picked up his fork and started eating again.

“Keep it.  Give it to somebody who needs it.”  Patrick smiled up at Jon.

“You need it.”

“I’ve got enough.  Gotten a couple paychecks.  All good.”

“You’re a strange one Patrick Kane.”

“I was raised to give to those less fortunate than me.  In the name of God, of course.”

“By your father?”

“By my mother.”  Patrick corrected. 

“Why don’t you come to our service this Sunday?”  Jon invited him. “You seem to still want to have a connection to a church,”

Patrick chuckled softly under his breath and shook his head.

“You said that your church thinks my lifestyle is a sin.  Why would I feel any more welcome here than in my father’s church?”  Patrick stared across the table at Jon. “Thanks, but no thanks, Father.”

“Up to you.”  Jon stood. “Oh, I was wondering if you’d like to come to dinner again.  Maybe we could discuss your lack of faith.”

“Oh, I don’t lack faith.  I believe in God. I just don’t believe in religion.”  Patrick smirked.

“Whatever.”  Jon huffed. “Do you want to come to dinner or not.”

“Whatcha gonna feed me?”  Patrick winked at Jon. “Father?”

“I, um, I…” Jon sputtered for a few seconds.

“I really like tacos.  Can we have tacos?

“Fine.  Six-thirty.”

“See you later then.”  Patrick laughed. “Father.”

Only Patrick didn’t show up at six thirty.  Or seven. Or eight.

Jon went down to Patrick’s room about nine o’clock in search of him, ready to tell Patrick off for standing him up.  Jon was sure it was because Patrick didn’t want to talk about his faith or his upbringing, so he’d just brushed Jon off.   Jon banged on the door, but Patrick didn’t answer. Jon went to the office and got the extra key to the room. When he opened the door, Patrick wasn’t there.


	5. The Reluctant Roommate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once he’d done that, Patrick sat back and let Jon wash his chest and legs. Patrick tried to wash himself, but the effort required too much energy. He handed the washcloth back to Jon and just nodded slightly. Jon took it and carefully washed Patrick. He kept his eyes diverted, going by feel alone.
> 
> He blushed even more, if that was possible, when Patrick’s dick started to get hard as he held it. It didn’t help when a small mewl escaped Patrick’s lips. That made Jon look at him, though.
> 
> Patrick’s head was tipped back against the wall. His eyes closed. His hair damp, the curls in tight ringlets framing his face. Jon’s mouth dropped open.
> 
> God help him.

_ There came a point when the cracking of the riding crop against his bare skin wasn’t enough to keep Patrick awake.  He let the darkness consume him, his body going lax against the restraints. _

_ Cold water. _

_ That was the next thing he became aware of, cold water on his face.  He fought to open his eyes but couldn’t. He was so tired. So tired. _

_ Jon.  Why haven’t you come for me? _

_ He couldn’t give up hope.  He held onto the image of Jon.  Jon would save him. Jon would come. _

_ Jon had to come. _

_ “Why fight them?” The sweet, gentle voice floated through the darkness towards him.  “Patrick. You know what you are? You’re a pretender. You just pretend to be gay, to hurt your father.  You know it. You know you aren’t really like that.” _

_ Soft, warm lips brushed against his.  A hand, fingertips on his cheek, light as a feather.  Warm breath. _

_ Jon. _

_ Patrick willed himself to move, to try and sit up, to open his eyes. _

_ It wasn’t Jon. _

Jon went upstairs and grabbed a coat, then headed out into the night in search of Patrick.  He didn’t stop to talk to anyone as he made his way directly to the overpass. He looked around but saw no sign of Patrick. 

Brandon, the boy who’d been watching Patrick’s things the last time Jon had come looking for him, was curled up in the same spot.  He had several new blankets, though, and what looked like a bag of food and other items. Jon made his way over to him.

“Have you seen Patrick?”

“Yeah.  He was here.  Brought me some stuff.”  Brandon looked up at Jon.  “Early. Like around five or so I think.  I was just getting ready to go find a corner to work.”

Five.  Patrick had been there at five, and never made it back to Jon’s for dinner.

“Did he say he was leaving, or anything?”  Jon asked, hopeful.

“Nah.  Said he had a dinner date.  Didn’t say with who, though.  Why?”

“He’s been helping out at the soup kitchen.  Cleaning at night. He didn’t show up tonight.”

“Maybe he picked up an extra shift at the store.  If I see him, I’ll tell him you were looking for him, Father Jon.”

“Thanks, Brandon.”  Jon turned and walked away, thinking about where Patrick could be.

Jon retraced his route back to the parish house.  He looked on every corner, asked a few people if they’d seen Patrick, checked out several alleys.  Nothing. He was about to give up, convinced that Patrick had left Chicago, or at least this neighborhood. 

That’s when he found Patrick.

“Patrick?  What happened?  Oh my God.” Jon rushed to Patrick’s side.

Patrick was curled up in a fetal position, his arms held protectively against his chest, his knees drawn up.  His head was tucked in to his chest, eyes closed. He had cuts and scrapes on his face, and a nasty looking cut on his head.  The blood still a stark red against his blond curls.

Patrick opened his eyes and focused on Jon.  “Hey. Am I too late for dinner?” He coughed, spitting out blood.

“Patrick?  What happened? We need to get you to the hospital.”

“No.  No hospital.  I’ll be fine.”  Patrick tried to sit up, wincing in pain.

Jon helped him sit up, then get to his feet.  He waited until he had Patrick inside on the couch before he grilled him again about what had happened.

“Well,” Patrick started, letting Jon help him out of his jacket.  “I went to the overpass, to give Brandon some money, blankets and stuff.  Ow… fuck… “

“I know   I went looking for you.”

Patrick froze, his pained expression changing to one edged by puzzlement.  He shook his head.

“You would.  Anyway. I should have been more careful, showing money around.  These guys jumped me on my way back.”

“Shoot.”  Jon exclaimed as he tugged Patrick’s shirt up.  Patrick’s ribs were badly bruised.

“Looks worse than it is.”  Patrick tried to smile. “You should see the other guys.  I got my licks in.”

“They could have killed you.”  Jon worried. “Please let me take you to the ER,”

“No.”  Patrick shook his head, then he straightened up as best he could and said proudly, “And they didn’t get my money.”

“That’s not important.”

“Hell yeah it is.”  Patrick winced and held his arm across his middle as Jon tugged his pants down.  “I worked hard for that money. Anyway. After I got away, I hid out until I was sure they were gone.  Then I came here.”

“I’m glad you did.”  Jon stopped what he was doing and looked at Patrick.  Their eyes locked on each other. Patrick held Jon’s eyes, reading what he thought Jon couldn’t say.  He blinked and looked away.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”  Jon said, looking away also, as if embarrassed by how his eyes betrayed his worry.  He helped Patrick up and into the bathroom.

Patrick finished stripping his underwear and socks as Jon ran hot water in the bathtub.  He gingerly stood up, his legs shaky, and stepped to the tub. Jon turned to help him and stopped cold, the sight of a fully naked Patrick affecting him more than he thought it would.

Patrick was lean and sinewy, all muscle and smooth pale skin.  Even bruised and battered, he was gorgeous. Jon’s eyes took in every inch in a matter of seconds.  He knew he shouldn’t be staring, should look away, but he couldn’t. Square shoulders, dark hard nipples, the outline of his ab muscles showing, trailing down the v of his waist to his dick. 

“See something you like?”  Patrick’s taunt jolted Jon back to the moment.  He took a deep breath to steady himself, then held out a hand to help Patrick step into the tub.  Patrick sat down and drew his knees to his chest.

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t… I can wait in the living room.”

“Nah.  It’s okay.  I shouldn’t have said anything.  I mean, had to be a bit of a surprise turning around and having a dick in your face.  I’d have probably stared too.”

Jon’s ears turned red and he could feel the heat spread across his face and down his neck.  He coughed, clearing his throat. Patrick tipped his head back and smiled at him, looking worn, and innocent.

“Stay.  I think I need some help here.  Might be a little worse off than I thought.” 

“What?”

“Think my ribs might be broken after all.  Jesus. Having a little trouble getting a breath.  It hurts like hell.”

Jon went and found a washcloth and a towel then came back to sit by the edge of the tub.  He dunked the cloth in the hot water and held it at the base of Patrick’s neck, wringing it out so the water ran down his back.  He did that several times before he retrieved the bar of soap and lathered Patrick’s back.

Once he’d done that, Patrick sat back and let Jon wash his chest and legs.  Patrick tried to wash himself, but the effort required too much energy. He handed the washcloth back to Jon and just nodded slightly.  Jon took it and carefully washed Patrick. He kept his eyes diverted, going by feel alone.

He blushed even more, if that was possible, when Patrick’s dick started to get hard as he held it.  It didn’t help when a small mewl escaped Patrick’s lips. That made Jon look at him, though.

Patrick’s head was tipped back against the wall.  His eyes closed. His hair damp, the curls in tight ringlets framing his face.  Jon’s mouth dropped open.

God help him.

He took his hand away from Patrick’s dick and cleared his throat again.  Patrick slowly opened his eyes and sat up. Jon finished by washing Patrick’s hair in silence.

When he was done he dried off Patrick and found him some clean clothes, a pair of Jon’s sweats and a t-shirt that were way too big.  Patrick didn’t care, he was having trouble keeping his eyes open and just wanted to go to bed. Jon tucked him in, watched to make sure he was sleeping okay, then went to clean up.

The next morning, Patrick woke to fresh coffee and a bagel.  Jon sat at the desk next to the bed as they ate.

“You want to help me down to my room today?”  Patrick asked.

“No.”  Jon replied bluntly.  “You aren’t going anywhere.”

“I’m not staying here.”

“Yes, you are.  You’re in no shape to be trying to take care of yourself.  Or do anything. At least not for a few days.”

“But what about my job.  I have to work.” Patrick protested.  He crossed his arms over his chest with a defiant huff and immediately regretted that move.  He winced in pain and sucked in air, trying to fight off the wave of nausea it had caused.

“See.  I rest my case.  I’ll go to the store and explain you’ve had an accident.  I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Patrick started to protest again, a little less forcefully this time.  Jon raised his hand and shushed him.

“I mean it.  You won’t let me take you to the ER.  If those ribs are broken, the last thing you need is to be up moving around.  So, stop fighting it.”

“You just want to have me here at your mercy.”  Patrick said lowly, almost inaudibly.

“Yeah.  That’s what I want.  To have you here bitching at me.”  Jon snapped. “You’re the one who came to me.  Remember. Looking for help. You came here, to my door.  Shut up and let me take care of you for a few days.”

Jon grabbed Patrick’s plate and cup and stormed out of the room.  After he’d done the dishes, he looked back in on Patrick. He was sound asleep.


	6. Of Philosophy, Theology, and Homosexuality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hhhhmmm… then, what you’re saying is that God planned for us to meet? And whatever happens from this point on, it’s all part of God’s plan?” Patrick mused. “God let me get beat up, so you’d have to take care of me?”
> 
> Jon sat there as Patrick questioned, challenged, his beliefs.
> 
> “Well?”
> 
> “I guess I do.” Jon said slowly. “Sometimes bad things have to happen before good can come into your life.”
> 
> “So, you’re good?” Patrick smirked. “For me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of minor character suicide

_ She was petite, and fair, and all of sixteen years old.  _

_ Patrick blinked at her, not sure why she was there.  He knew her. _

_ Sarah. _

_ She was the daughter of his father’s right-hand man, Joseph McQuaid.  _

_ She had a cloth in her hands, which she brought to his temple.  Cool. Wet. Soothing against his skin. She dabbed at his brow with the tenderness of a nursemaid. _

_ “It’s okay, Patrick.  It’s okay.” She cooed to him.  “I’ll take care of you now. We’ll make you better.” _

_ Patrick closed his eyes.  Her voice was strangely comforting after the harshness of his father’s pounding his mind.  He drifted off again, letting her wash his scrapes and bruises. _

Jon went about his daily chores, overseeing the soup kitchen, visiting around the neighborhood, helping Father Daniels prepare his sermons.  Every chance he got, he checked in on Patrick. The first day Patrick slept most of the time. The second day, he decided he needed to move a little.  He remembered hearing somewhere that if you didn’t move at all, you could get pneumonia with this type of injury. That led to an hour-long discussion about the strange things that you learned in life without knowing that you’d learned them.

The next day, he asked Jon to bring his backpack and bags to him. 

Jon brought them up and laid them next to Patrick.  He watched as Patrick pulled out an IPAD and several books.  One title caught Jon’s eye and he picked the book up.

“Knowing God.  That’s an interesting book for someone with your views on religion.”

“Told you, son of a preacher.  I probably have a lot of books most normal people don’t.”  Patrick told him, hoping Jon let it go at that. Of course, he didn’t.

“I have a question.  If you’re so against your father and his religion, any religion, why would you have brought these books with you?”  Jon tossed the book down and looked through the others Patrick had laid on the bed. “Orthodoxy. Reformed Dogmatics.  This is some deep reading.”

“...They were my mom’s.”  Patrick whispered, barely loud enough for Jon to hear.

“Were?”  Jon laid the books down.

“She … died....  when I was little.”

“Oh.  I’m sorry.”  Jon sat on the edge of the bed and picked up another book, flipping through it.  “She was religious, too, like your father, I take it.”

“She taught religion and philosophy at a university.”  Patrick carefully stacked the books closer to himself.

“Oh.”  Jon paused.  “How did she die?  May I ask?”

“She was leaving work one night.  She was attacked.” Patrick hesitated, his voice getting quiet again.  “He assaulted her and then strangled her.”

“Oh.  I’m… that had to be very hard on you and your family.”

“My dad couldn’t deal.  That’s when he started becoming ultra-religious, as best I can remember.  He kind of went off the deep end. He moved us out to the middle of nowhere.  He started preaching on the internet at first. Setting up this webpage. You should go look at it.  Way out there fanatical stuff. Wrath of God. Bible thumping. The whole bit. One day, some of his devotees showed up.  Pretty soon more showed up… followed by others, each more fanatical than the last. There must have been ...I don’t know… a hundred or so... in just a year.  They built this community around my father. And he became the Reverend Patrick Kane, Sr.”

“That had to be very difficult for you.  I’m guessing he is a very strict person? A toe the line kind of guy.”

“You have no idea.  He makes that Phelps guy at Westboro look like a bleeding-heart liberal.  He’s all old testament brimstone and hellfire, mixed in with just the parts of the rest of the bible he chooses to interpret in his own unique way.”

“Wow.”  Jon whistled under his breath.  “Extremist.”

“Jews.  Blacks. Every non-white race, for that matter.  He hates them all.” Patrick continued. “But. Gays.  He hates gays the most.”

“Why?  I mean, I understand what the bible says, but why would you say he hates them the most?”

“He blames them for her death.”

“Huh?  You said she was attacked?  How would that be their fault?”

“She had organized an LGBT group on campus.  She was at a meeting. And, well, and the guy had had a run in with a couple of her students.  He went after her because of that.” Patrick told him. “My father twisted it into her being killed for supporting gays.  Over time, like I said, he just kept getting more out there. Like completely insane beliefs.”

“Oh.”

“And, I’m sure that my being gay doesn’t help the situation.”  Patrick said sheepishly, dipping his chin down, waiting for Jon’s response.

“I would bet that set him off.”  Jon said. “Is that why you ran away?”

“You got it.  I didn’t want to be subjected to his, uh, conversion therapy.”  Patrick told him.

“Conversion therapy?”

“His own personal form, yeah.  More like aversion therapy, I think.  There was this kid, Noah, we used to talk.  He was gay, too. A few years older than me.  I could talk to him, though, ya know, ask questions.  He really helped me understand what I was feeling and helped me figure out I was gay.”

“Was he your, um, your boyfriend?”

“Shit no.  It wasn’t like that.  More like a big brother.  A big gay brother.” Patrick laughed.  “My dad found out about him one day. I guess Noah’s father found some stuff Noah had written, or drawn.  They took him away for this conversion thing. Fuck. When he came back. Whatever they did to him, he wasn’t the same.  He was like, I don’t know, hollow inside, broken. He killed himself not to long after that. Hung himself in the church.”

“What did they do to him?  To make him make that decision, to do something so… final?  So, against God’s will.”

“I don’t know, and I didn’t want to find out.  And why would you say it’s against God’s will?”

“Ending your own life is a sin.  It is wasting your life, God’s plan for your life.”

“How do you know that wasn’t God’s plan for that person all along?  You believe in that? That our lives are all planned out by God? We don’t have free will?  Change the course of our lives? That’s a bit old-school.”

“No, it’s not.  Why shouldn’t I believe God has a plan for us all laid out?  Like, everything in my life led me to this point, to becoming a Priest?”

“Hhhhmmm… then, what you’re saying is that God planned for us to meet?   And whatever happens from this point on, it’s all part of God’s plan?” Patrick mused.  “God let me get beat up, so you’d have to take care of me?”

Jon sat there as Patrick questioned, challenged, his beliefs. 

“Well?”

“I guess I do.”  Jon said slowly. “Sometimes bad things have to happen before good can come into your life.”

“So, you’re good?”  Patrick smirked. “For me?”

“Well, I’d like to think that.  Maybe God brought me into your life to show you a different side of religion.”  Jon stood. “I need to go down and help out at the kitchen. I’ll bring you back some lunch.  Don’t overdo with all this.”

After Jon left, Patrick sat smiling to himself.  “Yeah, God brought us together for just that reason, Father.”


	7. The Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wow. I… okay… so God did you a solid and you give yourself up to him?” Patrick shook his head. “And, again… aren’t you being a little hypocritical, Jon?”
> 
> “What’s hypocritical about any of that?”
> 
> “I mean, well, because you’re, you know…” Patrick hemmed and hawed around coming right out and saying Jon was gay.
> 
> Jon tipped his head to the side, a puzzled look on his face. “I’m what?”
> 
> Patrick froze. Oh shit. Was he wrong? Had he picked up on the wrong signals from Jon? Was there a chance Jon wasn’t gay, too?
> 
> “Um… uh… never mind. I guess I’m just confused.” Patrick looked away. He crumpled the taco wrappers and tossed them towards the waste basket by the desk. Then he changed the subject. “You think you could help me take another bath? I think soaking in a hot tub would help keep me from stiffening up from just lying around.”

_ Patrick floated in and out of consciousness the rest of that day, when Sarah had come to him.  He thought back to all the times his father had disciplined him for not paying attention to the word of God. _

_ “And the wicked shall be turned into hell.”  Sarah’s voice filtered through the haze. _

_ “And the wicked shall be turned into hell.”  His father’s voice repeated in his head. He drifted back, back through the years.  His father’s voice. So loud. So commanding. _

_ “Patrick!” _

_ “Yes, Sir.”  Patrick snapped to attention.  “I’m sorry.” _

_ “What was I saying?” _

_ “I, uh, I…” _

_ “I’ve told you, you need to pay attention during your lessons.  Stand up.” _

_ “I was…” _

_ “No excuses.  Stand up and turn around.” _

_ Patrick did as he was told.  He turned around and bent over, bracing his hands on the seat of the chair.  His younger sisters looked away. _

_ “Pants down.”  His father commanded.  “Girls, you’ll watch your brother take his punishment.” _

_ Patrick’s face flamed red as he undid the snap and zipper of his pants and pulled them down. _

_ “Bare, Patrick.” _

_ The fear of his father was stronger than the humiliation of pulling his underwear down in front of his sisters.  Patrick bared his bottom and bent over again. The book cracked against his bare skin. _

_ “What was today’s lesson, Patrick?” _

_ “Uh, it was… uh…” _

_ The book came down against his skin again, leaving a red welt.  Patrick clenched his eyes shut. He bit his lower lip. He tried to think. _

_ “What was today’s lesson, Patrick?” _

_ “It was… it was about the, uh…” _

_ Whack!  He almost cried out as the stinging pain spread across his ass. _

_ “The wicked…”  Patrick blurted out when the lesson came to his mind finally.  “The wicked shall be turned into hell.” _

_ Whack!  Whack! Whack! _

_ A tear rolled down Patrick’s cheek. _

_ “Are you wicked, Patrick?” _

_ “I was, Father.  I wasn’t paying attention to the word of God.  I’m sorry.” _

_ Whack! _

_ “Are you going to pay attention now?” _

_ “Yes, Sir.”  Patrick gritted out. _

_ “Pull your pants up and sit back down.”  His father ordered. Patrick did, wiping the dampness from his eyes.  His father glared at him, obviously disapproving of the tears, but he didn’t discipline Patrick for that.  He simply continued with his lesson. _

_ “And the wicked shall be turned into hell.”  He heard Sarah repeat. “I shall save you from hell, Patrick.” _

Jon opened the door and stepped into his apartment.  He was surprised by the sight of Patrick walking across the room, well, shuffling across the room.  Patrick was moving very slowly.

“What’re you doing out of bed?”  Jon sat the bag of food down and rushed to Patrick’s side, taking his arm and helping him along.

“I had to use the bathroom.”  Patrick told him, giving him a pathetic sideways glance.  “Or did you just want me to shit your bed?”

Jon’s cheeks turned a bright red that Patrick was starting to love bringing on.

“No.  Okay. I didn’t think about that.”  Jon guided Patrick back to the bedroom.

“What’s in the bag?”  Patrick sniffed the air and tried to look over Jon’s shoulder at the bag on the table.  “Smells great.”

“Tacos.  Since you didn’t get any the other night, I thought I’d bring some home tonight for us.  Since you were feeling a little better.”

It had been another three days, and by a little better, Jon meant that Patrick could sit up in bed without having dizzy spells if he was up too long, or getting sick to his stomach, and unable to get his breath due to the apparent broken ribs.

“You’ve been getting up when I’m not here?”  Jon asked.

“Again.  Nature calls.  And it’s not gonna wait for a convenient time when you’re here to help me.  I’ve been managing.”

And by managing, Patrick meant literally crawling to the bathroom the first two days when Jon wasn’t home.  Crawling in, doing his thing, then having to rest for a while before trying to crawl back to bed. His head spinning the whole time.  That had him more concerned than the broken ribs. At least Jon hadn’t found him crawling today, that would have sparked a whole new level of overly protective, nursemaid Father Toews.

“Tacos, you say?”  Patrick deflected Jon’s concerns, turning the conversation back to the food.  Jon also hadn’t been letting him each much more than soft foods, a lot of soup and jello.  Patrick wasn’t sure why, he hadn’t lost any teeth.

“Tacos.”  Jon repeated.  “Let’s get you in bed and we can eat.”

“Awesome.”  Patrick sat down on the edge of the bed.  “Maybe I could try just sitting here and eating?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”  Patrick affirmed.  “Kind of nice being able to be upright.”

Jon left him long enough to get the food and a couple of bottles of water.  He came back and sat down in the chair. Jon took out his taco and handed Patrick the bag and then his bottle of water.  Patrick unwrapped the hard-shelled taco slowly.

“Jesus this smells great.”  Patrick inhaled deeply and winced, coughing through the pain.  “Okay. Don’t do that.”

Jon was instantly at his side.  “Are you okay? Maybe you should get in bed?”

“I’m fine, Jon.  Just need to remember not to breathe too deep.”  Patrick smiled as the pain subsided. When Jon went to get up off the bed, Patrick let his hand reach out and hold Jon’s wrist.  “You could, uh, sit over here. Just to make sure.”

Jon seemed to hesitate for only a split-second before he retrieved his food and water and sat down next to Patrick.

“So, what should we talk about tonight?”  Jon asked, taking a bite of his taco, which crunched loudly.  He chewed slowly, watching as Patrick carefully took a bite of his taco.

Patrick closed his eyes and made the most obscene noise Jon had ever heard.

“God, that’s good.”  Patrick hummed happily as he took another bite.

“Why do you do that?”  Jon let his hands holding the taco rest on the paper wrapping on his lap.  He had a concerned look on his face.

“Do what?”  Patrick asked, not sure what Jon meant.

“Swear all the time.  Take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Jesus fucking Christ on a crutch.  That’s gonna be the topic you pick tonight?  Using God’s name, or Christ’s in vain?”

“It’s blasphemy.  And against the Commandments.”

“Just another sin on my list of grievous acts against God.”  Patrick said sarcastically. “Which one’s gonna get me thrown in hell?  My father would say being gay tops the list.”

When Jon didn’t respond but sat staring at Patrick until it made Patrick look away, Patrick continued. If Jon was going to try and make him feel guilty, he’d take on that debate.

“You think God ranks sins on a scale of one to ten?  Or is a sin a sin? Is murder worse than worshiping a false idol?  It’s down the list on those Commandments. And is coveting my neighbor’s wife really that horrible?  I mean if I don’t try to take her away or fuck her…”

Jon blushed, and Patrick smiled.  Score one for him, he thought.

“You’d call yourself a Christian, right, Jonny?” Patrick went on.  “You believe in Christ and his teachings.”

“Yes.  And, Jonny?”  He looked annoyed at that.  Score two for Patrick.

“Well, then why do you defend so many beliefs, so many prejudices committed by religions, with words from the Old Testament?”

“Because, that’s the word of God.  That’s what Jesus taught his followers.”

“Did he?  He taught a lot of things that went against the Old Testament.”  Patrick said.

“He taught a lot of things that were directly from the Old Testament.”

“Then we should all be good, orthodox Jews.  Just like Jesus. If we are truly following his teachings.”  Patrick countered.

“No.  That’s not what that means.  He taught a lot of things that weren’t from the Old Testament, too.”

“And the wicked shall be turned into hell.”  Patrick stated. “Sinners. The wicked. Me. Do you think Jesus would think I should go to hell for being gay?”

“Psalms 9:17.”  Jon says. “Interesting choice.”

“Ah, the good father knows his bible.”  Patrick snickered. “Well? Is that what Jesus taught?”

“No.”  Jon stated, slightly perturbed.

“So, if I’m gay.  If I’m wicked. I won’t go to hell?”

“If you don’t… if you…”

“Sputter away, Father Toews.”  Patrick smirked. Score another for him.

“Okay.  First, you’re taking things out of context.”

“Yeah?  Zealots have a tendency to do that.”

“Just.  Let me finish.  Jesus taught us that whoever believes in him, shall live again in Heaven.  So, if you believe in God and Jesus, then you’ll have eternal life.”

“So I could sin my whole life.  Commit murder. Break every commandment.  And right before I die, I say to God, I’m sorry, forgive me in the name of your son.  And poof, it all goes away and I get to go to Heaven?”

“I don’t think that’s quite how it works.”

“But you just said…”

“Well, yeah, but you can’t live an evil, vile life and then just suddenly say oh I’m sorry and be forgiven.”

“Why not?  I don’t remember there being any conditions on Jesus’ words.  Just the he who believeth in me bit.”

“Now who’s taking things out of context?”  Jon huffed.

“See.  Religion is fickled.   It teaches us one thing, but when it comes right down to it, it practices the opposite.”

“It does not.”

“Actually, that’s not fickled, that’s hypocritical.”  Patrick took a bite of his taco, he raised an eyebrow and smirked at Jon as he slowly chewed.

“I think you’re twisting things around to make them seem hypocritical.”  Jon said. “You’re seeing religion wrong.”

Patrick swallowed and took another bite.  He kept his eyes on Jon, waiting for him to continue with his rebuttal.

“It’s a belief in something... something bigger than all this.”  He waved his arm in the air in a grand gesture. “Bigger than any one person.  It gives us hope. Hope that there is more to our existence than just this life.  That there is eternal life. That that life is better than this life. That we can have that bigger, better life through our faith in God, in Jesus.”

“You gonna get to your point any time soon?”   Patrick interrupted, pausing between bites of his second taco.

“Ugh.  Can you give me a chance to talk?”  Jon grumbled. “Anyway, without that belief, without religion, what do you have?  Nothing.”

“Tell me something, Father Toews.  Why would I want to be a part of something, belong to a group, that professes Christian love, God’s love, Christ’s love, but condemns me to hell for who I love?  Why would you want to be a proponent of that type of religion? I mean, aren’t you being a bit hypocritical there, Father?”

“Not that you need to know, but God answered my prayers and saved my brother’s life.  I knew then that I was being called to something higher, to be a priest.” Jon’s face was serious, unemotional, as he explained his reasons to Patrick.  “Also, instead of condemning the church for their ways, shouldn’t I try to change them… from within?”

“Wow.  I… okay… so God did you a solid and you give yourself up to him?”  Patrick shook his head. “And, again… aren’t you being a little hypocritical, Jon?”

“What’s hypocritical about any of that?”

“I mean, well, because you’re, you know…”  Patrick hemmed and hawed around coming right out and saying Jon was gay. 

Jon tipped his head to the side, a puzzled look on his face.  “I’m what?”

Patrick froze.  Oh shit. Was he wrong?  Had he picked up on the wrong signals from Jon?  Was there a chance Jon wasn’t gay, too?

“Um… uh… never mind.  I guess I’m just confused.”  Patrick looked away. He crumpled the taco wrappers and tossed them towards the waste basket by the desk.  Then he changed the subject. “You think you could help me take another bath? I think soaking in a hot tub would help keep me from stiffening up from just lying around.”

“Yeah.  I’ll go start the water.”  Jon stood up. “And I can find you some clean clothes if you want.  Do you have something? In your bags?”

“Uh, no.  If you had another pair of sweats, and a shirt,” Patrick tugged at Jon’s oversized shirt he was wearing.  “They’re roomy. Not binding.”

“Okay.  I’ll get you in the tub and then find something for you to wear.”  Jon said as he walked out of the room.

Patrick sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the doorway after Jon had left.  He couldn’t have been that wrong, could he? 

What he couldn’t see was Jon out in the living room, standing with his hands covering his face, taking several deep breaths.

Jon knew exactly what Patrick had been talking about.  It was something he had put in the farthest depths of his mind.  Out of sight and all. Yes. He was a hypocrite. He looked up towards the ceiling, towards the heavens.

“Is this a test?”  He whispered. “You brought him here to test me, didn’t you?  Well, it’s not going to change how I feel. So you can stop now.”

Jon shook his head as he walked to the bathroom.  Who was he kidding. 

God? 

Or, himself?


	8. Test of Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When has the diocese set your ordination, Jonathan?” The elderly priest asked, even though he knew the answer.
> 
> “Um, six weeks from tomorrow. If you give your okay.” Jon seemed a little puzzled by Father Daniels’ question. “Why?”
> 
> “I was just wondering. You’re looking forward to it? Aren’t you? Taking this next step.”
> 
> “Of course. It’s what I’ve been studying for. What I’ve worked my whole life for.”
> 
> “There’s something that’s been troubling me of late, Jonathan. That might, interfere with your ordination.”
> 
> “What? What have I done?”
> 
> “Your friendship with that young man, Patrick.”

_ “Have you seen the error of your ways, Patrick?” _

_ Patrick stayed silent.  Defiant. He glared at his father through dark eyes, nearly swollen shut from the bruises on his face. _

_ “You’re making this harder than it has to be boy.  But if this is the way you want it.” His father nodded to the two men standing just behind the chair Patrick was secured to. _

_ They stepped forward and undid the ropes.  As they pulled Patrick to his feet, he summoned all his strength and tried to bolt away from them.  His father easily reached out and tripped him up. Patrick fell, sprawling on the ground at his father’s feet. _

_ “You aren’t going anywhere.”  His father growled. “Get him on his feet.” _

_ The two men dragged Patrick up and over to the long table.  They tied his wrists and ankles to mounted brackets. They lashed another tie tightly across his chest.  Patrick heard the snapping of the electric wires being touched together. They shoved a rubber guard in his mouth to keep him from biting his tongue.  Patrick clenched his eyes shut. _

_ And the torture continued. _

Over the next couple of weeks, Patrick rested and slowly got his strength back.  He was feeling well enough to move out to the couch during the day. He and Jon had also started eating dinner out there.  Their conversation often turning into friendly debates over religion and life. 

Patrick was careful to not question Jon about his sexuality, but with each day, he was more confident that he’d been right in his initial assumption.  Jon was gay, too.

For his part, Jon devoutly defended is faith and the church.  To Patrick, anyway. To himself, Jon had started to doubt his church.  His life.

He was sure this was a test.  A test of his faith sent to him by God.  He was so close. So close to his ordination day.  Why would God do this?

He sometimes found himself drifting away from their conversations as he listened to Patrick go on and on about some fanatical interpretation of some part of the scriptures.  Jon would fade out, lost in Patrick’s voice. Lost watching Patrick’s mouth. Lost looking into Patrick’s eyes.

In all his life, he’d never known anyone like Patrick. 

In all his life, he’d never been attracted to anyone.

Except Patrick.

Never.  No girls.  No other boys.  No one. No one he’d ever admit to, anyway.

Every night he before he went to bed, he would kneel next to the couch and put his hands together in prayer.  Every night he professed his devotion to God. He prayed for strength. He told God he understood this trial.  He needed to be tempted. But, he would show God. He was stronger than so many others who failed, who gave in to the temptations, who sinned against God.

However, just as Jon had every night since meeting him, Jon would go to sleep… and dream of Patrick. 

Jon knew Patrick was feeling better and that he’d move back down to the spare room soon.  That day came after another week when Patrick showed up at the soup kitchen for lunch.

“Hey,” Jon greeted him.  “Didn’t expect you to be out and about today.”

“Been cooped up too long.  Time to get back to work.”

“You really think you’re ready?”  Jon asked, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah.  I dropped my stuff of in my room.  Gonna go to the store and let them know I can start back tomorrow, if they still have a job for me.”

“Oh.”  Jon looked at the floor, trying to hide the disappointment he felt.  “That’s, uh, that’s good. They said they’d hold your job.”

“Anyway.  I just wanted to let you know where I was, so you wouldn’t worry if you came up and I wasn’t there.”  Patrick smiled. “And, I thought we could have pizza for dinner? I’ll pick one up on the way home later.”

Jon perked up.  “That would be cool.”

“See ya tonight then, Jonny.”  Patrick winked at him, smirking as the use of that nickname made Jon blush. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

Having dinner together became a comfortable routine for Patrick and Jon.  Jon enjoyed having the company. Patrick was smart and articulate and their conversations, debates, ran a gamut of topics, sports, religion, politics, all the things they say you shouldn’t discuss with friends were open for discussion. 

Jon found out they both had a love of hockey.  They decided they’d try to go to a Hawks game sometime.  They both liked old movies, too, black and whites from the 1930s were a favorite.  And, they both read a lot. Favorite books were often a topic.

Patrick told Jon about his life growing up before his father moved them west.  He’d had a good life, with two loving parents. The change in his father had been dramatic and wholly unexpected to Patrick based on his life before his mother’s death. 

Patrick had been very close to his mother.  She was the one that had nurtured his drive for knowledge, his love of reading, and his beliefs.  He told Jon about a bedtime ritual they had where they stuck a pin in the map and then would look up information about that location.  Patrick’s mother had always told him that someday she would take him to these faraway places. He still hoped to travel to some of the places by himself someday.

“Ever thought about visiting Canada?”  Jon asked.

“Duh.”  Patrick smirked, then he paused and tipped his head to the side, thinking.  “I think I’ve already been to Canada. When I was little. We went to Niagara Falls I think.”

“That’s a cool place.”  Jon said. “Maybe, uh, maybe sometime you’d like to come to my parents’ place, in Winnipeg.  We also have a place, a small cabin, on our lake.”

“Your lake?”

“Lake Toews.  Yeah. It’s named after my family.”

“You own your own lake?”  Patrick whistled. “That’s pretty impressive.”

Jon shrugged, the happiness fading from his expression as if he was suddenly embarrassed by that fact.  “It’s not that big a lake.”

“I’ll bet it’s awesome.”  Patrick smiled. “I’d love to go there sometime.  Meet your family.”

“They live in Winnipeg.  My mom, dad and David. He’s gonna be a freshman in college this fall.”

“Cool.  What do your folks do?”

“Dad’s an electrician.  And my mom is the manager of a credit union.”

“Impressive.”  Patrick smiled.  “They support you?”

“For the most part.  They don’t understand why I feel the call to the priesthood, but they’re still planning on coming for my ordination.  David is my biggest supporter. We talk all the time.”

“Nice.”

“What about you?  Sisters or brothers?”  Jon asked.

“Sisters.  Two younger.  They were really little when my mom died.  I don’t know that they remember her. I miss them, but we weren't that close.  They’re pretty devout followers.” Patrick said, and Jon nodded knowingly.

They sat and ate and talked.  Being around Patrick was comfortable, like a warm blanket on a cold day.  Jon found himself missing Patrick on the days he didn’t see him. His mood was noticeably different on those days, so much so that Father Daniels took notice.  He called Jon into his office at the rectory one afternoon.

“When has the diocese set your ordination, Jonathan?”  The elderly priest asked, even though he knew the answer.

“Um, six weeks from tomorrow.  If you give your okay.” Jon seemed a little puzzled by Father Daniels’ question.  “Why?”

“I was just wondering.  You’re looking forward to it?  Aren’t you? Taking this next step.”

“Of course.  It’s what I’ve been studying for.  What I’ve worked my whole life for.”

“There’s something that’s been troubling me of late, Jonathan.  That might, interfere with your ordination.”

“What?  What have I done?”

“Your friendship with that young man, Patrick.”

“Patrick?  I don’t understand. How would that interfere with my ordination?”

“You’ve grown, um, how should I say it, um, very… close… to him.”  Father Daniels clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on the desktop, rocking his arms back and forth slightly as if emphasizing his words.  “You are just… friends… aren’t you?”

Jon frowned, searching for why Father Daniels would be concerned.  Why should he not be friends with Patrick? 

“Yes.  We’re friends.  I don’t see how that is a problem.  Is it because he was homeless? Or because…” 

“I’ve heard things, Jonathan.  About your friends’ lifestyle, his, uh, his choices.”  Father Daniels said sternly. “I’ve been told he has a friend, a friend that is more than just a friend.  Do you understand? A friend that the church might not approve of. When I heard, I became concerned that well, maybe you were Patrick’s, that you and Patrick…”

Jon’s face turned ashen, all the blood draining out as Father Daniels’ concerns became clear.

“What?  No. No, sir.  It’s not like that.  Patrick and I are just, just friends.  I’m not like that.” Jon stammered out, saying the words that his brain wanted to believe, words that Father Daniels wanted to hear.  “I’m not gay if that’s what you’re implying Father. I, um, I can’t say for Patrick, but if that’s what you’ve heard.”

“Some of our elder parishioners have mentioned it.  They see you with him, at the soup kitchen, around the neighborhood.  I understand he comes to your room often.”

“He, uh, he uses my shower, because there isn’t one in the spare room he stays in.  He has a job, he can’t go to work dirty and unkept. So, I let him shower. And we have dinner together sometimes.  We’re just friends. That’s all.”

Father Daniels holds his hands up, palms out towards Jon.  “I believe you my son. I had to ask. You’ve worked so hard and are so close to reaching your goal.  I wouldn’t want anything to give the diocese pause in going through with your ordination. I wouldn’t want anything to keep you from being able to take over this congregation.  A bad decision. An association with someone of questionable character.”

“Patrick isn’t…”  Jon stopped himself, the stern look on Father Daniels’ face clearly indicating this was not up for discussion.  “I understand, Father.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------

That night Jon made up an excuse, claimed he didn’t feel well, to avoid having dinner with Patrick.  Patrick offered to bring him some soup, or whatever Jon wanted. When Jon declined, Patrick was confused, but said okay. 

Jon sat alone on his couch.  Father Daniels’ words ran through his mind.

Patrick was a problem because he was gay.  That’s what that conversation had been about.  That was the cause of Father Daniels’ concerns.

Patrick was gay.  Jon could no longer be friends with Patrick.  That was the ultimatum. If he was, Father Daniels wouldn’t okay Jon’s ordination.  That was what he had implied.

Jon closed his eyes and tipped his head back, letting it rest against the top of the couch cushion.  His hands balled into fists he slammed them against the couch next to his legs.

“Why?”  He asked out loud. 

“What kind of test is this?  Making me choose? Making me pick the church, pick you, over having a friend?  How is that even fair? You bring him into my life and then tell me he can’t be in my life?  I don’t understand. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me along the way. Haven’t I? So why now?  Why would you do this?”

Jon had never questioned his church. 

Before Patrick.

Jon fought his growing anger down, made himself breathe slow and steady.  His hands slowly unclenched. His mind let go of the turmoil as he made a decision.

He called David.


	9. Defiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I, uh, I thought maybe we could celebrate. Go out to dinner. Catch a movie or something. It’s been a while since I did anything just for fun.” Patrick asks cautiously. “You’re allowed to do stuff like that, aren’t you?”
> 
> Jon pauses, Father Daniels’ warning echoing in his head. But there sits Patrick, angelic and innocent looking, not knowing about Jon’s ultimatum, just wanting a friend.
> 
> “Yeah? I think I’d like that. Been a long time since I went out to a movie, too.” Jon gives in. He doesn’t really see the problem if they’re just friends. He’ll meet Patrick out somewhere, away from the church.

_ “Stop.”  Patrick’s words were barely audible, barely above a whisper.  “Please. Stop.” _

_ “What’s that boy?”  His father leaned down, bringing his ear close to Patrick’s lips.  “What’d you say?” _

_ “Please, stop.” _

_ “Have you seen the error of your ways?  Are you ready to repent? To leave behind that vile lifestyle?”  His father questioned. _

_ “Yes.”  Patrick whispered. _

_ “Louder, boy.” _

_ “Yes.”  Patrick raised his head, looking up at the man towering over him.  “Yes.” _

_ “Yes… what?” _

_ “I’ve sinned.  I’ve lived against God’s law.  I’m… I’m sorry… please…” _

_ His father waited. _

_ “Please forgive me, Father.”  Patrick said. _

_ “That’s better.” _

“Did I do something wrong?”  Patrick had pulled Jon aside at the soup kitchen.

“No.  I’ve just been really busy, getting close to ordination and I have a lot to do to be ready.”  Jon avoided making eye contact with Patrick. He kept his hands in his pockets, shoulders slouched.

“Well, are you free tonight?  For dinner?”

“No.  Sorry.  I, um, have to meet with Father Daniels.”  Jon lied.

“Okay.  Maybe tomorrow.”  Patrick smiled. “I’ll check in with you after I get back from work.”

“Yeah, that’ll be fine.  I can’t guarantee anything, but you can check.”  Jon said, nodding his head. “I, uh, I better get back to helping out.”

“Sure.”  Patrick said, a little confused by Jon’s demeanor.  “Talk tomorrow.”

He hadn’t been to Jon’s for dinner in over a week.  Jon was always busy lately. That, or he was avoiding Patrick for some reason.  Patrick wracked his brain but couldn’t think of anything that had happened or that he’d done.  Jon was just acting odd. Maybe Jon was just busy getting ready for his entry into the priesthood.  The big day was quickly approaching. Jon was probably nervous about it, that would also maybe explain things.  Patrick kept thinking of excuses, trying to reassure himself that everything was okay between Jon and him.

\----------------------------------------------

Another week went by and Jon is still avoiding Patrick.  It’s time for Patrick to find out what is really going on.  He stops and picks up a couple of turkey subs from Jon’s favorite sub shop on his way back to the parish house.  Maybe a peace offering is in order, for whatever he did.

“I brought you a present.”  Patrick holds up the bag of food when Jon opens his door.

Jon hesitates for a moment, then steps aside and lets Patrick in. 

“Whatcha got to drink?”  Patrick asks, walking over to the small fridge.  “Coke?”

“Yeah, Thanks.”  Jon answers. He looks up and down the hallway to see if anyone has seen Patrick come to his room.  That’s highly unlikely, he’s the only one on this floor.

Patrick grabs a couple of bottles of Coke out of the fridge and walks over to the couch, sitting down and putting the food and drinks on the coffee table.

“Turkey sub.  From DeGallo’s.  Extra cheese, no dressing.”  Patrick tells him, grinning up at Jon.  “Your fave, right?”

“You got it right.”  Jon finally smiles back.  “Thanks.”

“I figured I’d just take a chance you were here.  And if you’re busy, well, you still gotta eat dude.  They do let priests have time for food, don’t they?”

“Yeah.  I can take a break for dinner.”  Jon sat down next to Patrick. 

“How’s it going?  Getting nervous?” Patrick pulled Jon’s sub out of the bag and handed it to him.

“A little.”

“You’re gonna do great.  Nothing to worry about.” Patrick unwrapped his sub and took a bite.

Jon stared at the sub on his lap.  Nothing to worry about, Patrick had said.  Right. Nothing to worry about. He turned and looked at Patrick who was happily eating his sub, talking about something that Jon wasn’t paying attention to at all. 

He missed this.  He missed Patrick.

“And I’m getting a promotion at work already.  They’re making me a cashier.” Patrick stopped talking, taking in the blank look on Jon’s face.

“Jonny?”

“Huh?”  Jon snapped out of his trance.  “What?”

“I got a promotion.  They made me a cashier.”  Patrick repeated. “Have you heard anything I’ve said?”

“Sorry.  I was just… sorry.  That’s great. More money?”

“A little bit.” 

“That’s really great, Patrick.”

“I, uh, I thought maybe we could celebrate.  Go out to dinner. Catch a movie or something.  It’s been a while since I did anything just for fun.”  Patrick asks cautiously. “You’re allowed to do stuff like that, aren’t you?”

Jon pauses, Father Daniels’ warning echoing in his head.  But there sits Patrick, angelic and innocent looking, not knowing about Jon’s ultimatum, just wanting a friend. 

“Yeah?  I think I’d like that.  Been a long time since I went out to a movie, too.”  Jon gives in. He doesn’t really see the problem if they’re just friends.  He’ll meet Patrick out somewhere, away from the church. 

And hope no one he knows sees them.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

The restaurant they meet at is out of the way and quiet.  They sit at a corner booth and Jon looks around nervously.  It’s a weeknight, there aren’t a lot of people out and about, the restaurant is mostly empty.

Dinner is a couple of burgers and fries.  Patrick has a milkshake with his dinner, Jon sticks to just a Coke, but does have a piece of pie for dessert along with Patrick.

Patrick picks up the check, to which Jon protests, but Patrick informs him the night is on him.  They continue their conversation from dinner as they walk the several blocks to the movie theater. 

The theater is dark and nearly as empty as the restaurant.  Jon lets Patrick buy some popcorn for them to share and drinks.  Patrick also gets a box of chocolate covered peanuts.

“Where do you put all that food?”  Jon kids him. “I’m not sure I’ll even be able to eat much of the popcorn after that dinner.”

“Gotta have popcorn at a movie, geez, Jonny.”  Patrick laughs.

“And the peanuts?”

“They go great with the popcorn.  Trust me. You’ll love it.”

Jon gives him a skeptical look and just shakes his head.  He follows Patrick down the aisle until he stops about halfway down.

“This okay?”  Patrick asks.

“This is good.”  Jon steps in and takes a sit towards the middle, Patrick sitting down beside him.

Jon watches as Patrick opens the box of peanuts and dumps them into the popcorn.

“What’re you doing?”

“Trust me, Jonny.  This is the way to eat popcorn.”  Patrick holds the bucket out for Jon to take a handful.  “Make sure you get some peanuts.”

Jon takes a bite, making sure to get a couple of pieces of popcorn and peanuts together.

“Well?”

“Not bad.”

Patrick smiles smugly.  “See. I know what’s good.”

The movie is a comedy and they laugh, really laugh, through it.  At first, Jon tenses when his arm touches Patrick’s, but by the end of the night, he’s grinning as his arm rests against Patrick’s as they get up and walk out.  They chat and laugh about scenes from the movie on the walk back to the parish.

“Thanks for tonight.”  Jon says, leaning against the wall outside Patrick’s room.  “I had a really good time.”

“Me too.”  Patrick lets his hand rest on the door handle, hesitating.  “It was, uh, nice, getting to go out.”

“We’ll have to do it again.”

“I’d like that.”  Patrick smiles.

Jon tips his head, just a little, and Patrick’s heart skips a beat.  He thinks maybe…

“Good night, Patrick.”  Jon reaches out and pats him gently on the shoulder.  “See you tomorrow.”

As Jon walks away, Patrick leans in and puts his forehead on the door to his room.  He sighs softly. 

“Night, Father.”  Patrick whispers.


	10. It's For the Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father Daniels stood up abruptly, the noise of his chair being pushed back drawing attention to them. He took a minute to calm himself and let the attention wane. He leaned over the table, planting his hands firmly in front of Patrick. He spoke softly, so as not to draw more attention.
> 
> “Look young man, I’m speaking to you because I already tried talking to Jonathan. I warned him about you, about associating with your kind. But obviously he doesn’t care about his ordination. That, or you’ve worked your godless, homosexual influence over him. I’m telling you, for your own good, and for Jonathan. You need to leave here. You need to leave Jonathan alone.”

_ Patrick isn’t tied down anymore, but he isn’t given his freedom.  Instead, he’s kept in a locked windowless room. His brain is foggy, from both the torture and confusion of not knowing if it is day or night.  No indication of time passage is playing with his mind. He doesn’t know how many days he’s been back in Kane, how many days of torture he’s endured. _

_ Sarah comes to him.  She’s the only one he’s seen since he was brought to this room.  She dutifully tends to his cuts and bruises, washing him and applying a healing salve.  Patrick lays still when she touches him, keeps his eyes averted. She hums softly as she cares for him, a hymn Patrick knows well. _

_ “You are doing much better, Patrick.”  Sarah says to him on her fourth visit. “I told Father Kane your wounds were healing just fine.” _

_ Patrick turns his head and looks at her face.  She is so young. _

_ “Why are you here?”  He asks softly. _

_ “Father Kane has named me to be your wife.”  She said, as calmly as if she was telling him about the weather.  “As soon as you are well enough, we’re to be married.” _

_ Patrick clenched his eyes shut and bit his lower lip to keep from voicing his protests to this girl.  It wasn’t her fault. Fuck his father. Fuck him for thinking that Patrick would marry Sarah, a child still. _

_ He’d told his father what he wanted to her, to make the abuse stop.  He didn’t want to. He wanted to keep defying him. But the pain, Patrick just couldn’t endure more.  So, he told his father he’d learned his lesson. He repented his sins. _

_ Patrick never thought it would result in this. _

_ Jon.  Where in the hell was Jon.  Patrick couldn’t give up on that hope.  Not yet. _

_ Jon would come for him. _

“It’s Patrick, right?”  Father Daniels stood next to the table where Patrick was eating lunch at the soup kitchen.  “May I sit down?”

“Of course, Father.  Please.” Patrick motioned to a chair on the opposite side of the table.

“You are Jonathan’s… friend.”

The way he said the word friend made Patrick’s skin crawl.  Instantly, he became defensive of his relationship with Jon.

“Yeah.  We’re friends, Father.”  Patrick glared across the table.  “Just… friends.”

“I see.”  Father Daniels stiffened.  “I have been told some things, about you, and your, um, life choices.”

“You mean that I’m gay.”  Patrick sat up straight, dropping his hands to his lap and balling his hands into fists. 

“Yes.”

“And you have a problem with that?”

“Well, no, not personally, Patrick.  But the church does have a strong view on the subject.  And, well, I wouldn’t want to have anything hinder Jonathan’s journey to the priesthood.”

Patrick cocked his head slightly, his brow furrowing.

“I don’t…”

“Jonathan will be taking over this parish.  This is a very conservative parish at its core.  There are those in the congregation, very… influential… parishioners shall we say, who would be extremely displeased if they knew, or thought, their priest was committing a sin.  Or… associating with a sinner.”

“With me, you mean.”  Patrick spat, having a hard time controlling his anger.  “And for your information, Jon isn’t committing any sin. Unless just being my friend is a sin.  I don’t remember that being on any list, though. I thought it was the Christian thing to do, to hate the sin but love the sinner.  Oh wait, I forgot, your church doesn’t practice what they preach.”

Father Daniels stood up abruptly, the noise of his chair being pushed back drawing attention to them.  He took a minute to calm himself and let the attention wane. He leaned over the table, planting his hands firmly in front of Patrick.  He spoke softly, so as not to draw more attention.

“Look young man, I’m speaking to you because I already tried talking to Jonathan.  I warned him about you, about associating with your kind. But obviously he doesn’t care about his ordination.  That, or you’ve worked your godless, homosexual influence over him. I’m telling you, for your own good, and for Jonathan.  You need to leave here. You need to leave Jonathan alone.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

It was Patrick who avoided Jon for the next week.  Father Daniels’ words, his revelation about why Jon had been avoiding him, occupying Patrick’s thoughts.  It was easy enough to not be around during the day, his new role at work came with more hours, too. In the evening, he’d hurry about his chores at the soup kitchen, cleaning in record time, then he’d lock himself away in his room.

A couple of times, Jon had knocked on his door, wanting Patrick to come up for dinner.  Patrick had pretended to be gone, or asleep, or whatever. He didn’t answer Jon’s knocking, but sat in the dark hoping Jon would just leave.

Fuck Father Daniels.  Fuck the church. They were as bad as Patrick’s father.  To assume that because Jon was friends with him that he was gay.

But.

Patrick had assumed Jon was gay.   

And, contrary to anything Jon said...

Patrick knew Jon was gay, or at least bi, and that Jon was attracted to him.  

He hadn’t been wrong about that.  He was sure he’d read all the signs right.  Now, given what Father Daniels had said, he understood Jon’s actions even more.

Fear.  Fear of being found out.  Fear of losing everything he’d worked his whole life for.

Fear of losing his church.

That could be a powerful motivator. 

Patrick had faced all of that when he’d made the decision to leave Kane and his father’s church.  It had been difficult. There was one bigger fear, however, that had ultimately made Patrick’s decision easier.  The fear of losing his life.

Patrick sat still as a church mouse on the edge of his bed, his hands in his lap.  The knock at the door came again.

“Patrick?  Are you up?”  Jon called through the door.  “I have a pizza if you want to come for dinner.”

Silence for a few moments.

“Patrick?”

Then the sound of Jon’s footsteps as he walked away. 

Patrick let out a slow breath.  He laid down, staring up at the stark, white ceiling.

He knew what he had to do.  For Jon’s sake. He couldn’t let him just throw his dream away because he would be stubborn and try to stay friends with Patrick.  Jon would do that, Patrick thought.

This time, the fear of losing Jon, made his decision more difficult.  Jon was his friend, really his only friend. They hadn’t known each other that long either, but Patrick had grown closer to Jon than he had been to anyone before.  Now, he was faced with the reality that Jon would be taken away from him. Because he was gay. 

Fuck everything.


	11. Avoidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sure enough, it didn’t take Patrick long to come looking for Brandon. Jon stood across the room, not wanting to be too obvious that he was happy to see Patrick. He’d let Patrick come to him. Only, Patrick didn’t. He had just looked over at Jon, given a polite nod of his head, and left.
> 
> A couple of days later, Patrick turned up again. This time he was carrying a couple of bags of groceries. One of the women in the kitchen said he’d brought them a donation, for the food pantry. He’d also left some money.
> 
> He didn’t talk to Jon again.
> 
> Jon thought about following Patrick when he left, to see where Patrick’s apartment was. That thought got pushed away almost as fast as it had come. Jon couldn’t do that sort of thing. He’d just have to wait for Patrick to decide to talk to him.

_ “Marry her?”  Patrick sat with his back against the headboard of small bed.  “You can’t be serious.” _

_ “Why wouldn’t you marry Sarah, Patrick?  Did you lie to me? Have you not repented your vile ways?”  Patrick’s father said sternly, accusingly.  _

_ Patrick shifted his gaze away from his father’s glare.  The man could make him feel so small with just a look, with just the sound of his voice. _

_ “No.”  Patrick said quietly.  “I know I was a sinner.  But I’ve seen how wrong that life was.  I just, she’s so young. And, well, I would kind of like to pick my own wife.” _

_ “That’s not happening.”  His father stated, and Patrick knew that was the end of that conversation. _

_ “Yes, Sir.”  He replied dutifully.  “May I ask a question?” _

_ His father nodded. _

_ “How long have I been here?” _

_ “Two weeks.”  His father said.  “We brought you home two weeks ago tomorrow.” _

_ Patrick sighed.  Two weeks. And as far as he knew, Jon had not come looking for him.  _

_ “Has, um, has anyone been, uh, looking for me?”  Patrick asked cautiously.  _

_ “Who would be looking for you?” _

_ “Um, no one, I guess.  I just… never mind.”  _

_ “You seem to be feeling better.”  His father grumbled. “I think you can move back into your room in a day or two.  Then we’ll have the wedding and we’ll set you and Sarah up in your own house.” _

_ “Yes, Sir.”  Patrick’s head dropped dejectedly.  Either Jon hadn’t come, or his father was lying.  Either way, Patrick’s life was screwed. _

“Have you seen Patrick around lately?”  Jon asked Lois, one of the soup kitchen volunteers.

“Not for a few days.  I think he’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“His food’s gone from the fridge.  And Father Daniels said we’d have to find someone new to help with the cleaning.”  She didn’t even look up from the pan of casserole she was serving as she talked. 

Jon froze, however.  Patrick gone? As soon as he could, he excused himself and went to Patrick’s room taking the spare key with him.  He knocked, then opened the door.

The room was empty.  All Patrick’s things were gone.

“He’s moved on.”  Came Father Daniels’ voice from behind Jon.

“When.”

“Yesterday.”  Father Daniels stopped in the doorway, eyeing up Jon like a disapproving parent.  “I tried to tell you, Jonathan, about his kind. Not to be trusted. Anyway, it’s for the best.  You can concentrate on your ordination now. I’ve recommended to the diocese that it proceed as planned.”

Jon nodded.  “He didn’t even say good-bye.”

“He wasn’t a true friend then, was he?  You are better off with him gone.”

“Did you have something to do with him leaving?  Was it because I didn’t listen to you and stay away from him?”

“Of course not, Jonathan.  I wouldn’t do that. The choice was yours to make.”  Father Daniels smiled. “His kind, boys like that, runaways, they don’t stay in any one place for very long.  Or maybe, maybe he found someone who would be his friend in… that way…”

Jon couldn’t bring himself to even protest Father Daniels’ words.  He just listened as the older man talked about Patrick living in sin with another man.  Finally, Jon took one last look around the room and followed Father Daniels out. He pulled the door shut behind him.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days later, Jon couldn’t stand it.  He had to know where Patrick had gone. And why.

He took a handful of flyers and told Father Daniels he was going to canvas the neighborhood, distributing literature.  He made his way directly for the overpass, however. 

Jon asked several people, none of whom seemed to know Patrick.  Eventually, he saw Brandon making his way back to the spot he’d shared with Patrick when Patrick had first shown up.

“Hey, Father Jon.  How goes it.” Brandon greeted him.

“It goes, Brandon.  Have you seen Patrick lately?”

“He was here yesterday.  Why?”

“Well, he, uh, he moved out of his room at the parish.  And he left a few things behind. I wanted to return them to him.”  It was a convenient little white lie.

“Oh.  Okay. Um, he got himself an apartment.  Over closer to his work. It’s nice. He had me over, so I could get cleaned up and have dinner one night.” Brandon flopped down on the mats that made his bed.  “I’ll tell him you’re looking for him if I see him.”

Jon took in Brandon’s living arrangements.  A cardboard box. A pile of old mats. A few blankets. 

Brandon was younger than Patrick, maybe just sixteen.  Patrick had taken an interest in him, though. Jon knew he always made sure Brandon had food and a little bit of money every few days.  If Patrick thought Brandon was worthy of his help…

“Hey.  Since Patrick moved out, we need somebody to help at the soup kitchen.  Would you be interested?” Jon watched Brandon’s eyes light up. “It comes with room and board, no money.  You’d be expected to clean, mop and stuff, after hours.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, I could do that.  Are you sure?”

“Yeah.  Just come on over and I’ll show you the ropes.”  Jon smiled. Having Brandon at the soup kitchen served two purposes for Jon.  First, it filled the cleaning position. Second, if Brandon was at the soup kitchen Patrick would have to come there to see him.

Brandon looked around at his makeshift shelter.  He picked up a few items and stood up.

“This is all I have that I want to take.  Can I come with you now?”

“Of course.”  Jon put his arm around Brandon’s shoulder.  “Let’s go get you settled in.”

\--------------------------------------------------------

Sure enough, it didn’t take Patrick long to come looking for Brandon.  Jon stood across the room, not wanting to be too obvious that he was happy to see Patrick.  He’d let Patrick come to him. Only, Patrick didn’t. He had just looked over at Jon, given a polite nod of his head, and left.

A couple of days later, Patrick turned up again.  This time he was carrying a couple of bags of groceries.  One of the women in the kitchen said he’d brought them a donation, for the food pantry.  He’d also left some money.

He didn’t talk to Jon again.

Jon thought about following Patrick when he left, to see where Patrick’s apartment was.  That thought got pushed away almost as fast as it had come. Jon couldn’t do that sort of thing.  He’d just have to wait for Patrick to decide to talk to him.

Jon’s ordination was just two weeks away when Patrick made that decision.  He was sitting in his room reading when there was a knock on his door.


	12. What's Right In Front Of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as quickly, Jon’s hands were on Patrick’s chest and he was pushing him away.
> 
> “No. No. We can’t. I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Jon stammered, stepping away.
> 
> “Why the hell not? Jesus, Jon.” Patrick dogged Jon as he moved across the room. “It’s not wrong.”
> 
> “No. I mean. Yes. Yes, it is. I’m not. I can’t.” Jon continued to ramble.
> 
> Patrick grabbed Jon’s arm and spun him around. “Just shut the fuck up, okay, and kiss me.”

_ Patrick lifted his face towards the bright sunshine, letting the warmth envelope him.  It was the first daylight he had seen since his father and his goons had grabbed him. _

_ “Don’t get any ideas, boy.”  Joseph McQuaid warned him. _

_ The man walked a couple of steps behind Patrick and Sarah.  Even if Patrick felt strong enough to make a break for it, the loaded shotgun in McQuaid’s hands was a powerful deterrent.  _

_ He walked slowly to his father’s house, letting Sarah reach out and hold his hand along the way.  Appearances were everything at this point. He just needed to bid his time until he was stronger, and there wasn’t a shotgun pointed at him. _

_ His father was waiting for them on the porch.  _

_ “Sarah, you can come back this evening for a visit.”  His father ordered. Sarah nodded, smiled at Patrick and gave him a chaste kiss on the check before departing with her father.  Patrick followed his father into the house. _

_ His room was exactly as he’d left it, with a few minor alterations he discovered.  While it was an improvement of his last quarters, he was still trapped. The windows had all been nailed shut, and his father locked the door when he left. _

_ Patrick sat, staring out the window.  Planning his escape. _

“Hey, can I come in?”  Patrick looked up at Jon shyly through his lashes, keeping his head tipped slightly down. 

Jon stepped aside and waved his hand towards the couch.  “Sure.”

Patrick sat down and wearily scrubbed his hands over his face.  “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”  Jon sat down next to him.

“For not saying goodbye.  For, um, avoiding you.” Patrick let his hand drop down, resting it on Jon’s thigh.  “I shouldn’t have.”

“No.  You shouldn’t.”  Jon scolded him in a less than harsh tone.  “But it’s okay. Brandon said you got an apartment.  That’s good. Getting out of this place and into a home of your own.”

“Jon?”  Patrick’s voice wavered.

Jon looked up.  Patrick’s eyes were fixed on him.  Warm. Inviting. Jon looked away instantly.

“Why didn’t you say something?”  Patrick continued.

“About what?”

“Father Daniels giving you an ultimatum.  If you’d have just said something.” Patrick pulled his hand back, resting it in his lap.

“Would you have stayed?”  Jon questioned.

“No.  I’d have still left.  But, not the way I did.”  Patrick admitted. “I can’t let you lose everything just because of me.”

“I thought about it.  I prayed about it.” Jon brought his eyes back to Patrick.  “I made my decision.”

“Why?”

“I don’t understand.”  Jon shook his head. “Why what?”

“Why would you want to be friends with me?  Just being stubborn? That’s not very priestly.”

“One of my character faults.  I need to work on it.” Jon joked half-heartedly. 

Patrick stood and paced across the room, turning to face Jon again.  “Or maybe, there was another reason.”

“What other reason could there be?”

Patrick walked to the window and looked out.  “I just thought… never mind.”

Jon got up and made his way over to stand next to Patrick, who turned to face Jon, their bodies just inches apart.  Patrick looked up at Jon, searching for a sign, any indication that what he felt was returned.

“Oh fuck it.”  Patrick swore under his breath.

In an instant, Patrick brought his hands up to cup Jon’s face.  In one swift motion, he rolled up on the balls of his feet, closing the distance between them.  His lips pressed against Jon’s, soft, yet demanding. Jon jerked his head back, taken completely off guard.  Patrick held his breath, one second… two seconds… then Jon’s arms were around him and Jon’s mouth was on his and Jon was kissing him.

Just as quickly, Jon’s hands were on Patrick’s chest and he was pushing him away.

“No.  No. We can’t.  I can’t. I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.” Jon stammered, stepping away.

“Why the hell not?  Jesus, Jon.” Patrick dogged Jon as he moved across the room.  “It’s not wrong.”

“No.  I mean.  Yes. Yes, it is.  I’m not. I can’t.”  Jon continued to ramble.

Patrick grabbed Jon’s arm and spun him around.  “Just shut the fuck up, okay, and kiss me.”

Patrick pushed Jon up against the wall by the door and leaned up to kiss him again.  Jon tipped his head into the kiss, his hands coming up to hold Patrick’s shoulder. He didn’t push Patrick away this time.  Instead, Jon returned the kiss, his mouth hot and forceful against Patrick’s.

Patrick pulled away from the kiss to trail kisses along Jon’s jawline.  Jon held himself still, just taking in all that was Patrick in his arms.  The smell of his hair. The warmth of his skin. The feel of Patrick’s hands on his body. 

“No.”  Jon whispered.  He shook his head, shaking away the emotions overwhelming him.  He pushed on Patrick’s shoulders and straightened himself up. “No.  I can’t do this.”

Patrick stared up at him, eyes glistening.  “Jon?”

“I’m sorry.  I can’t.” Jon stepped out of Patrick’s hold.  “You need to go.”

Patrick tried to reach out for Jon’s hand, but Jon jerked it away.

“I ran away, Jon.  From all I knew because I couldn’t live a lie.  How can you?” Patrick’s chin dropped to his chest and he choked up, fighting back his own feelings.  “How can you want a life where you have to hide who you are? Where you can’t be with the person you love?”

“I don’t…”  Jon started.

“Yeah.  You do.”  Patrick said.  “You can deny it all you want to everybody else, to yourself, but I know the truth.”

With that, Patrick opened the door and walked out of Jon’s life.


	13. Patrick Is Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A Patrick Kane, Senior. Reporting his son as a runaway.” The officer read the information. “That’s all I’ve got here.”
> 
> “Uh. Okay.” Jon was frazzled. Patrick’s father had been here. Now, Patrick was missing. Jon didn’t want to think the worst had happened. “I, uh. It’s okay. I’ll keep checking around the neighborhood for him.”
> 
> Jon got up and started to leave.
> 
> “Maybe his father found him. Convinced him to go home.” The officer said.
> 
> “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Jon said under his breath,

_ “I think you’re well enough to take on some work around here.”  Patrick’s father told him two days after he’d moved Patrick back into his house.  “You can fix dinner for your sisters and me.” _

_ “But, Mrs. Chambers cooks for you.” _

_ The back of his father’s hand stung as it contacted Patrick’s cheek. _

_ “Don’t talk back to me.  You fix dinner tonight.” _

_ “Yes, Sir.” _

_ Patrick didn’t raise his hand to rub his cheek.  That would only have angered his father more. He knew better than to question his father, it had been a stupid mistake.  One he wouldn’t make again. He needed to build his father’s trust, make him believe that Patrick had been broken. _

_ “Sir?”  Patrick said quietly. _

_ “What?” _

_ “May I invite Sarah to join us for dinner?”  Patrick suggested. “I’d like to get to know her better.  Before the wedding.” _

_ “I think that would be an excellent idea.”  Patrick’s father smiled at him. “In fact, I’ll have her come over and help you.  Give you some time together.” _

_ “Thank you, Sir.”  Play the game, Patrick said to himself. _

_ Play the game. _

Patrick had frequented Jon’s dreams before, thoughts of him now invaded Jon’s every waking moment.  Now Jon did more than just dream about Patrick. Now he remembered.

Remembered what Patrick felt like in his arms.  Small, yet strong and solid, his body pressed against Jon’s.  Remembered what Patrick’s lips felt like, soft and warm. Remembered the taste of Patrick.

Jon shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.  He needed to stop thinking about Patrick. It had been a week since Patrick had come to his room. 

He’d seen Patrick twice since then, when Patrick had brought in donations to the food pantry.  They hadn’t talked to each other at all, however. Patrick hadn’t even acknowledged that he’d seen Jon.

That hurt.  Jon figured he deserved that reaction from Patrick. 

Jon informed Father Daniels that Patrick was no longer in Jon’s life.  The elder priest had expressed his approval, telling Jon again that it was for the best.  Jon still had his doubts, but he knew he needed to move on with his life. His ordination day was approaching quickly.

Three days before the big day, Jon was surprised when Brandon came looking for him.

“Father Jon, have you heard from Patrick?”

“No.  Patrick and I, well, no.  I haven’t seen him in a while.”  Jon saw the concern on Brandon’s face.  “Why?”

“He didn’t come by today.  He hasn’t been by in, um,” Brandon counted on his fingers.  “three days. That’s a long time for him not to check on me.”

“He’s probably just busy at work.  I’m sure he’s fine.”

“That’s just it.  I went to the store today.  Patrick hasn’t been at work the last two days.  He hasn’t called off or anything, he just didn’t show up.”

“Maybe he’s left.  Gone someplace else.  Or home.”

“He wouldn’t do that.  He likes it here. And, he wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye.  That’s not Patrick.” Brandon insisted, and Jon knew all that was true.

“He could have.  You don’t know.” Jon said however, trying to reassure Brandon, and himself.

Worry nagged at Jon the rest of the day, though.  Brandon was right. Patrick wouldn’t have just taken off.  The next day Jon went to the local police precinct. 

“Father Toews.  How can we help you today?”  The desk clerk greeted Jon.

“I think I need to report a missing person.”

“Is this a family member?” 

“No.  Um. No.  Just a friend.  Nobody’s seen him for a few days.”

One of the officers Jon knew well came in just then.

“Father Toews.  Is something wrong?”  He asked, coming to stand next to Jon.  “Trouble with your parishioners?”

“A friend is missing.”  Jon said. “I’m worried.”

“A friend?  One of the homeless kids?”  He knew Jon looked out for them.  “Or one of the working class?”

“A friend.”  Jon repeated.  “His name is Patrick.  Patrick Kane.”

“That name sounds familiar for some reason.”  The officer’s partner said over his shoulder. 

“Yeah.  I saw that name.  A couple of days ago?  Last week maybe? I don’t know.”  The officer agreed. He directed Jon towards a back room.  “Why don’t you come back to a desk and we’ll see what we can find.”

Jon followed them and took a seat in a chair across a desk from the officer who pulled up information on a computer.  While he was typing in his search, he asked Jon more questions.

“So, how long have you known him?”

“A few months now.”  Jon answered.

“How old is he?”

“Um.  Nineteen.  I think.”

“Oh?”  The officer glanced up.  “An adult?”

“Yes.  He is. Does that make a difference?”

“Well, he has the right to just take off if he wants.  I mean, should we suspect anything? I mean, do you think something happened to him?  Is there any reason to think that? Evidence of foul play? Or is he a danger to himself or anything?”

“I don’t know.  I just know he hasn’t shown up at his job for several days and nobody has seen him.”

“Okay.  Yeah, here it is.  Runaway.”

Jon’s heart sank, why would they have an incident with Patrick listed as a runaway.  Maybe Patrick had made the report, though. Maybe he was reporting one of the street kids. 

“We told that person the same thing.  This Patrick is an adult, that makes him not a runaway.  Told him he’d have to find his son on his own.”

“Son?”  Jon drew in a sharp breath.  “What was the name?”

“A Patrick Kane, Senior.  Reporting his son as a runaway.”  The officer read the information. “That’s all I’ve got here.”

“Uh.  Okay.”  Jon was frazzled.  Patrick’s father had been here.  Now, Patrick was missing. Jon didn’t want to think the worst had happened.  “I, uh. It’s okay. I’ll keep checking around the neighborhood for him.”

Jon got up and started to leave.

“Maybe his father found him.  Convinced him to go home.” The officer said.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”  Jon said under his breath,

\----------------------------------------------------

Jon got Brandon to take him to Patrick’s apartment.  The building super let him in. The room was sparsely decorated, just a couch and bed.  All of Patrick’s things were still there, though. A sign he’d left in a hurry, or unwillingly.

Jon packed up Patrick’s things and took them with him. 

“I think Patrick’s in trouble.”  Jon told Father Daniels a short time later.  “I think his father’s taken him back home.”

“How would that be a problem?”

Jon told him everything Patrick had told him about Patrick Kane, Sr., and his church.  The radical fundamentalism. The fear of abuse. Father Daniels just sat and listened stoically.

“I think that you should let it go, Jonathan.  Stay out of something that isn’t any of your business.  You have to be ready for Sunday. I thought you said this young man was no longer a part of your life?”

“He isn’t.  But that doesn’t mean I’m not worried about him.  As a parishioner. Who is missing and who I think is in danger of being harmed.”  Jon said defensively. “Isn’t that something that the church teaches? To care about others?”

“In this case, Jonathan, I think it would be for the best if you just let this go.”  Father Daniels said sternly, an order not a request.

“Why?  Because Patrick’s gay?  Because he somehow deserves whatever his father is going to do to him?  That he’s not worthy of our love? Our faith?” Jon snapped. 

“Jonathan.  That’s not…”  Father Daniels started to rebuke Jon but stopped.  “I think, son, that we need to think about delaying your ordination.  I think you’re not ready for that next step. You need some additional time, for personal reflection on your own life choices.”

Jon stood up.  “You mean I need to decide if I really want to be a part of a church that hates people like me.  Like Patrick.”

Father Daniels face grew red.

“Yes.  I’m gay.  Just like Patrick.  I thought I could deny it.  I thought I could hide from it.  But I can’t.”

“Sit down, Jonathan.”  Father Daniels bellowed.

“No, sir.  You’re right.  I’m not ready to take my vows.  I’m not sure now that I’ll ever be ready.  The one thing I am sure of is that I need to find Patrick and make sure he’s okay.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Jon managed to get a hold of his family before their flight to come to his ordination.  His mother sounded just a little too relieved and happy. His father assured him everything would work out the way it was supposed to.  David was the voice he needed to hear, however.

“Go find him, Jon.”  David had said. “Then come home.”

On Sunday, the day he was to take the final step in his journey to the priesthood, Jon was instead in a rental car driving across Illinois.  He didn’t know what he would do when he got to Kane. He didn’t have a plan for rescuing Patrick. Hell, he wasn’t even sure Patrick was still alive at this point.

Jon shook his head, angry with himself for thinking that.  Patrick was alive. He would find him.

Jon had spent most of the day after his argument with Father Daniels at the local library researching Patrick Kane, Sr.   Information was scarce, and it took some serious digging. He had to get special permission and an override administrative code to finally view the websites, which were blocked by the library’s security settings.  When he opened the main page, Jon saw why they were blocked.

The sheer amount of vile hate spewed forth on the page made Jon sick to his stomach.  He clicked on a few of the links. There was a vast amount of information devoted to anti-Semitism, all about how the Jews were taking over the world.  How the holocaust was just a hoax perpetrated to garner them sympathy. Jon clenched his fists in anger as he read some of the more intense propaganda. 

There was a section dedicated to racism against people of color, people of other religions, and immigrants in general.  By far, however, the most revolting information was on the anti-LBGTQ pages. Jon felt the bile rise in his throat when he clicked on a link that revealed images of gay men being tortured in the name of driving their sins out of them.  There was an extensive description and list of steps to ‘convert the sinners’ to a more pious life style.

If that was what Patrick’s father was doing to him.  Jon closed the links to those pages. 

He found a map showing the faithful how to find Kane.  It was out in the middle of nowhere, cut off from the rest of the world.  It would be a long drive.

Jon had gotten up early the next morning, packed up his belongings and left the parish house as the congregation was just starting to arrive for morning mass at the church.  He had Patrick’s things as well. Regardless of what happened, Jon and Patrick would never be coming back to this life.


	14. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick looked around. He saw a road sign. He stopped, tugging his arm free from Jon.
> 
> “Where the hell are we? We’re not headed towards Chicago.”
> 
> “We can’t go back there. What if they come looking for you again?”

_ “Tomorrow?”  Patrick asked, stunned by his father’s announcement. _

_ “We’ll have the ceremony and then a nice reception lunch.”  His father continued, ignoring Patrick’s concern. _

_ “But?  I thought you’d give me time to, um, to court Sarah.” _

_ “No need for that.  The sooner you’re married the sooner you can start being a real man.  Put your faggot ways behind you.” _

_ Patrick stared blankly.  As if it was just that easy.  Of course, his father would think that.  You’re gay because you choose to be gay. You repent your evil ways and hallelujah you’re straight… and saved from eternal damnation. _

_ “You have a problem with that, boy?” _

_ “No, Sir.”  Patrick replied automatically.  Don’t question. Don’t give him reason to suspect anything. _

_ Patrick went to his room.  He stood by the window staring out at the sparse landscape beyond the edge of the buildings.  He needed to find a way to escape again.  _

_ He saw a cloud of dust in the distance.  He wondered who would be coming to Kane.  _

_ His eyes lit up with hope. _

_ Jon. _

Jon drove down the narrow street of the small community.  It looked like any Main Street in small town America, tree lined, nicely kept lawns, quant houses.  The only difference was that it was a dirt street, a sign of how much this community had separated itself from the rest of the world. 

Welcome to Kane the sign at the edge of town had said.  Typical of a fanatic to name the town after himself. All Jon could picture was Jim Jones and Jonestown.  He had to find Patrick and get him away from his father.

He was acutely aware of the stares he was getting from all the residents that were out and about.  And, they were acutely aware that there was a stranger in town. He headed straight for the church, it’s tall steeple easily spotted as it stood out against the otherwise stark landscape at the far edge of town.

The group of men standing just outside the church doors looked intimidating.  They were all gruff looking, openly carrying sidearms in low-hung holsters. Jon thought it looked like a scene out of the old west, which almost made him laugh.

“I’m looking for a Reverend Kane.”  He said as he got out of the car and approached the group.

“I’m Patrick Kane, Senior.”  A large man said, stepping from the back of the group.  “How can I help you?”

“Good afternoon, Reverend.”  Jon said, sticking his hand out.  The automatic courteous gesture had worked the first time he met Patrick, maybe it would work now.  Maybe it would put the elder Kane off guard.

Reverend Kane left Jon hanging, though.  After an awkward couple of minutes, Jon pulled his hand back down.

“I’m Father Toews.”  A little white lie, maybe the use of the title would get him somewhere with Kane, as a fellow man of God.  Given what Patrick had told him, Jon didn’t hold out any hope, however. “I’m looking for your son. He disappeared from his home several days ago and…”

“This is his home.  Father.” Patrick, Sr. said coldly, with nothing but disdain in his voice.

“Well, it was.  But Patrick lives in Chicago now.  And his friends are, well, I’m worried about him.”

“He’s fine.  Being taken care of by his family.  He doesn’t need friends… like you.” One of the others said, resting his hand on his holster.

Jon swallowed hard.  Control. Calm. He needed to stay calm.  For Patrick’s sake.

“Mr. Kane.”  Jon deliberately didn’t use the religious title.  “I know what you’re doing to Patrick. He told me about how you feel you can, convert him, to your way of thinking.  I’m here to take him home. So, there are two ways this can go. You can get him and let us leave, or the police will be here in five minutes to arrest you for kidnapping.”

“Police?”

“They know I’m here.  If I don’t contact them, they’ll be here.  Looking for both of us. I don’t think you want that, do you?  Law enforcement searching your fine little community?”

“Fucking hell.”  Came a voice from the back.  “You can’t come here and threaten us.”

“Your choice, Mr. Kane.”  Jon kept his focus on Patrick’s father.

“Let them come.  You had an accident.  Got mad and drove off.  Wrecked your car.”

“They aren’t going to believe that.”  Jon smirked. “Not when I have a friend videotaping our whole meeting.”

The men looked around, looked at Jon’s car, but didn’t see anyone.

“At a safe distance and completely discreet.”  Jon said.

“Fuck you.”  The elder Kane glared.  “Wait. You’re like him aren’t you.  How can you call yourself a man of God?  A fucking faggot, just like that worthless piece of shit.”

Jon didn’t say a word, just stood his ground.  He squared his shoulders and raised his head, looking down at the senior Kane.

“Fucking fags.”  Kane swore under his breath.  He turned to McQuaid. “Go get the little bastard.  He’s caused me more trouble than he’s worth already.”

A minute later two of the men appeared, half carrying Patrick between them.  Jon gasped a small breath of fear that Patrick was seriously hurt, until he raised his head and smiled softly.

“Knew you’d come, Father.”

“Are you okay?”  Jon’s worry evident as his eyes looked Patrick over.

“Yeah.  Just a little going away gift.”  Patrick half-nodded at the two men holding him.

“You need to leave.  Now.” Kane, Sr. announced.

Jon took Patrick from the two men and guided him to the car.  Once he had him in the passenger seat, Jon went around and climbed in behind the wheel.  He took his phone out of his jacket pocket.

“Jon?”

“Gotta make them think I’m calling off the dogs.”

“Huh?”

“Did you hear all that, David?”  Jon said into the phone. “Yeah. We’re okay.  I’ll call you when we get away from here. Yeah.  Love you, too, little brother.”

Patrick watched in confusion as Jon started the car, turned it around, and began the long trek out of Kane. 

“I’ll explain later.  Let’s get out of here.”  Jon kept a wary eye on the men in the rearview mirror until they were out of sight, making sure they weren’t being followed right away.

They drove in silence for over an hour, Jon nervous and constantly watching the road behind them for any sign that Patrick’s father had changed his mind.  Patrick dozed off and on, curled up in the back seat. He’d made Jon stop at one point, so he could move there from the front seat. 

He most likely had bruised ribs from the going away beating they gave him.  There were also some small cuts and a few scars that looked like burn marks.  At least nothing was broken, Jon thought. Nothing that wouldn’t heal.

It was another hour before Jon felt it was safe to stop.

“You want to explain now?”  Patrick questioned as Jon helped him out of the backseat at the McDonald’s he’d found at an exit off the interstate.

Patrick looked around.  He saw a road sign. He stopped, tugging his arm free from Jon.

“Where the hell are we?  We’re not headed towards Chicago.”

“We can’t go back there.  What if they come looking for you again?”

“But… the church… your ordination?”  Patrick protested, looking worriedly at Jon.

“I left.  I told them I was going to find you, and… and that I wouldn’t be back.”  Jon told him solemnly, looking down at the ground between them.

“Jon.  You can’t…”

“I can.  Patrick. How can I take my vows?  How could I live that life when I… when I… love you?”  Jon stammered out the declaration.

“You what?”

“You were right.  I was lying to everyone.  To you. To myself.” Jon reached out and softly brushed a few straggly curls from Patrick’s forehead.  “I fell in love with you.”

Patrick hesitated just a second before he stepped into Jon’s arms.

His arms wrapped around Jon’s waist and he let his head rest on Jon’s shoulder. 

“I knew it.”  Patrick whispered. 

They stood like that, Patrick enveloped safely in Jon’s arms, for several minutes.

“So, where are we headed?”  Patrick finally asked.

“Home.”  Jon answered.


	15. Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in his life, Jon was uncertain about his future. It was a little frightening. For so long he’d been so sure of what he was doing, who he was. Now… nothing was clear to him except that he had Patrick.
> 
> For Patrick, he finally had hope for a future and that future included Jon. He could leave his father’s world of hate behind, completely. Despite Jon’s worries, Patrick knew his father wouldn’t come after him again. His story would be that Patrick was dead. He’d make Patrick an example for others. Homosexuality killed his son, he would say.
> 
> In return, Patrick would tell everyone his parents were dead.
> 
> For both of them it was a chance to start over. The possibilities were endless as to what they could do with their lives. They had a loving, supportive family to help them along the way. And now… they had each other.

Their escape from Patrick’s father had taken them north out of rural Missouri, up through Iowa and Minnesota.  They’d alternated driving duties. Patrick slept while Jon drove. Jon closed his eyes but couldn’t sleep when it was Patrick’s turn to drive.  His mind was too busy thinking about how much his life had changed in the last few days.

As they got close to the border, Jon got off the interstate and took them up several less traveled two-lane roads.  Eventually he turned off those roads onto a narrow dirt road. After about thirty minutes on that road he turned to Patrick.

“Welcome to Canada.”

“Just like that?”  Patrick said. He’d been worried about crossing the border without a passport.  He’d told Jon he had a driver’s license, at least, in his bags. Jon, however, was insistent on the backroad, covert entry, route.

“Just like that.”  Jon answered. “Getting in is easy.  It’ll be getting out of Canada that might be a problem.”

“This is crazy, Jonny.”

“I know.  You’d think it would be harder to get in, wouldn’t you?”

“No.  I mean us.  This is crazy.  How are we going to live?  Where? What will we do?”

“My folks will take care of us.  Gonna go hide out at the cabin for a while, until we’re sure your father isn’t going to come after us.  Then we’ll get a place in Winnipeg.”

“With what money?  I can’t very well get a job with no papers.  I’m a fucking illegal alien here bud.”

“I have money.  And I’ll get a job.  No problem.”

“You have money?  What? Aren’t priests supposed to take a vow of poverty?”

“No.  That’s only in some orders.”  Jon answered snarkily. “Besides, I’m not going to be a priest any more.  I think that made my maman very happy actually. I don’t think she ever wanted me to…”

“Jon.  Money.”

“Oh, yeah.  I have a trust fund.  From my grandfather Gilbert.”

“Trust fund?”

“Yeah.  I should have gotten it when I turned 21, but I didn’t take it.  It’s just been sitting there.”

“You have a… trust fund?”

“Yes.  I have money.  I’m sorry. I should have told you before this, but it never came up in any of our conversations.”  Jon says sarcastically. 

“You’re… uh… rich?”

“Comfortable.”

Patrick whistled.  “Wow. You’re just full of surprises today.”

Despite Jon saying his family had money, they pulled up in front of a rather modest looking ranch home early the next morning.  The yard was nicely landscaped, on a beautiful tree lined street. It reminded Patrick a little of his home in Buffalo.

A man and a woman that Patrick thought to be in their mid-forties came out of the house and down the sidewalk to meet them.  A teenager, not much younger than Patrick, followed them. They all threw their arms around Jon, hugging him tightly and making a fuss over him.  Patrick stood silently by the car, hands in pockets, head down.

“Maman.  Papa. This is Patrick.”  Jon stepped back to stand next to him, sliding his arm around Patrick’s shoulder.

“Welcome home.”  Andree` rushed over and grabbed Patrick up in a warm embrace.

“My maman and papa, Patrick.  Andree` and Bryan. And the troublemaker over there is David, my brother.”  Jon introduced his family to Patrick.

Andree` stepped back and Bryan stepped up to give Patrick a hug, then David gave him one, too.  It wasn’t the greeting Patrick expected, although, he hadn’t really known what kind of greeting he’d get.  He figured it would be cordial. He couldn’t fathom Jon’s family not being polite to him, but this was beyond polite.  It was warm and accepting and loving.

It was everything Patrick needed.

Andree` and Bryan took Patrick by his arms and ushered him into the house with Jon and David laughing as they followed.  They feed the boys a hearty breakfast then let them nap the rest of the day. 

They stayed together in Jon’s room.  Patrick curled up against Jon’s side.  Jon’s arms protectively wrapped around Patrick.  Comfortable. Relaxed. Safe.

For the first time in his life, Jon was uncertain about his future.  It was a little frightening. For so long he’d been so sure of what he was doing, who he was.  Now… nothing was clear to him except that he had Patrick. 

For Patrick, he finally had hope for a future and that future included Jon.  He could leave his father’s world of hate behind, completely. Despite Jon’s worries, Patrick knew his father wouldn’t come after him again.  His story would be that Patrick was dead. He’d make Patrick an example for others. Homosexuality killed his son, he would say. 

In return, Patrick would tell everyone his parents were dead.

For both of them it was a chance to start over.  The possibilities were endless as to what they could do with their lives.  They had a loving, supportive family to help them along the way. And now… they had each other.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

A thick, misty fog rose off the lake as the sun tried to break through the morning clouds.  Jon made his way towards the lake carrying two steaming cups of coffee. As he ambled down the well-worn path through across the yard from the cabin to the lake, he could see Patrick standing on the dock.

Patrick.  His Patrick.  His husband.

It had been a simple ceremony at the cabin on the lake.  His parents and David acting as witnesses. The minister at the church where Jon acted as youth leader performing the service.  Jon had found the church by accident, while job hunting when they’d first come back to Winnipeg from the lake, once Jon thought it was safe.  It was a church extremely different from anything either he or Patrick had ever known, progressive, open, accepting and welcoming to all. With no hidden agenda or secretive prejudices to be found.

Jon had started going and eventually had talked Patrick into giving it a try.  Patrick had gone a couple of times, but that was it. He told Jon he’d rather practice his faith on his own terms.  Jon would often find Patrick sitting outside, meditating. That was his church, Patrick had told Jon one day.

That had been two years ago.  Wow how times flies, Jon thought.  And now, he and Patrick were married.  Jon never dreamed his life would be like this, so happy, so full of love.  So full of life. He didn’t have to give up on his faith, his God, he could be who he was and still devote his life to God in some way.  In addition to working as a youth leader, Jon was pondering becoming an ordained minister within this church. He wouldn’t have his own church or be a full-time minister, only filling in for vacations or other special occasions. 

In addition to his volunteer work at the church, Jon had managed to get a full-time job teaching at one of the small universities in Winnipeg.  He had started work on his doctorate, as well. 

Patrick had started the process of getting his Canadian citizenship.  Turns out that despite his fear of being an illegal alien, he was able to work with the Canadian government and get the required paperwork to stay in the country.  And now that he was married to Jon, the process would go even quicker. 

At first, Patrick thought it was ironic that he ended up married to a preacher man.  Then one day, he was talking to Andree`, telling her all that he remembered about his mother.  And it hit him. Jon was just like her. Andree` had smiled knowingly.

“She brought you the person you needed in your life.”  She told him. “Mother’s will always find a way to take care of their babies.”

“That’s a nice thought.”  Patrick mused.

“And I thank her every night in my prayers.”

“Oh?”  Patrick asked, confused at that.

“For watching out for my Jonathan, too.  For bringing you to him. You are exactly what he needed.”

Patrick had blushed and dipped his head shyly.  Andree` had pulled him into one of her warm, loving, motherly hugs at that point.

“My boys.”  She had said to him.  “I’m so lucky she brought you into my life, too.  Because it brought Jon back to me.”

“You never wanted him to be a priest?”

“I wanted him to be happy.  I think… he wanted to be a priest for the wrong reasons.  He was doing it out of a sense of obligation, or guilt, maybe, because of what he promised when he prayed for David that night.  As he got older, I knew it would be wrong for him.”

“Jon is very religious.  I don’t think it would have been wrong.”

“Jon has a strong faith and belief in God.  But, being who he is, his life would have been in constant conflict with his religion.  Finding you made him see that. He had to lose his religion in order to find himself and, well, find his own religion, I guess you’d say.”  Andree` sipped at her tea. “He’s happy. That’s all I ever wanted.”

Patrick smiled shyly.  “I’m happy, too. I found myself and my faith.  I think my mother would be happy with that. She always told me to follow my heart.” 

\-----------------------------------------------

_ Eight years later… _

_ Patrick knelt down, wrapping the scarf around his son’s neck to protect him against the harsh winter wind.  He smiled at the dark-haired miniature of Jon that stood before him. He reached for the knit toque and pulled it on the boy’s head.  Then, he addressed the question he’d been asked. _

_ “Do I believe in God?”  He repeated five-year-old JP’s question. _

_ “Daddy says that you do.  But you don’t go to church with us?” _

_ “I believe in God, honey.  I think that it’s just better to worship and serve him how you feel you should, not how a church tells us we should.  Does that make any sense?” He knew it might be a bit much for a five-year-old to grasp. _

_ JP nodded his head slowly, then as his father smiled knowingly at him, began to shake it in a negative response. _

_ “Do you believe in God?”  Patrick asked JP. _

_ “Yeah, I guess.  Daddy says I should.” _

_ “I know what Daddy says, but do you, Jonathan Patrick Toews… do you believe in God.  Not because Daddy tells you to, but because you believe.” _

_ “Hhhhmmm.”  JP hummed, tipping his head like a confused puppy, just like Jon does.  “Yes.” _

_ “And why do you believe in God?” _

_ “Because I do.”  JP said. “Cause the bible says he’s real.  So, he must be.” _

_ Patrick hugged his son tightly, holding him to his chest and laughing.  JP laughed because his father was laughing. _

_ “That’s a good reason.  Someday you’ll figure it out, for yourself, just like I did.  You’re the son of a preacher man after all.” _

_ JP didn’t understand what his father meant, but he kept laughing.  A feeling of warmth and safety enveloping him. _


End file.
